


Aspects

by ManMagnificent



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Pact - Wildbow, Parahumans Series - Wildbow, Twig - Wildbow
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 03:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 102,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19967437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManMagnificent/pseuds/ManMagnificent
Summary: The protagonists from the Worm, Twig Pact and Harry Potter universes are sent into the Harry Potter universe in the bodies of their younger selves. Now they explore the mystery of what brought them to this new reality along with dealing with threats that seemed to have been pulled in with them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was posted before as three separate stories, this was part of an experiment that didn't quite work out and thus I decided to just have it as one stories. This has of course meant that the people who bookmarked the story lost their bookmarks without knowing. For this I apologise, I'd thought I would send out a PM to inform them of this change, but alas, AO3 doesn't have that feature yet.
> 
> If you're one of those who bookmarked. You have some of my apologies.

**Sylvester**

I’d had a few months to get used to _this_ and still it got to me.

My left fist _hurt._ The skin was scratched and remnants of blood were stark against my pale hand; my lip was busted, throbbing at the split, and the swelling was such that my mouth was slightly agape; then there was my _eye,_ so swollen that I couldn’t see through it.

Sister Magdalena tsked and it was a little surprising. I hadn’t _forgotten,_ because it was easier now to keep track of my thoughts for longer, but I’d slipped, focusing in another direction while I’d let everything else fall to the wayside.

Sister Magdalena was a _nun,_ dressed largely in black with a white hat-like thing I’d slipped and called ridiculous one time, something I largely blame on being suddenly thrust into a religious world. She was a long woman, tall and thin, with a face that seemed too long and sharp, it was made worse because her lips were continually pursed, making it was hard to like her from first impressions. Even so, she was one of the better people that ran the orphanage.

“Honestly, Sylvester,” she said, getting low and dipping cotton in alcohol. “I don’t know what to do with you anymore.”

“They were picking on Benjy,” I said, hissing a little as she started with my lip, a burn sprouting as she dabbed it with the cotton. The pain was sharper than I remembered, but then that was supposed to be true, right? The memory of pain often dwarfed the _experience_ of it.

Even so, it was a reminder of the past, when I’d lived a more exciting life on a different world, instead of this fever dream.

Sister Magdalena stopped, giving me a look. “You know,” she said, “that excuse would fly better if you didn’t get into fights _constantly._ If we didn’t keep finding _knives_ in your room.”

I shrugged. “Gotta be able to protect myself,” I said, smiling what I hoped was a roguish smile. She didn't buy it.

“You’re _eleven,_ Sylvester,” she said. “You shouldn’t need a knife to protect yourself.”

I gave her a long look and _waited,_ wanting the pieces to slot into place but they didn’t. A pang of loss ran through me because I’d _lost_ it. In one fell swoop I’d lost _everything:_ The other Lambs were gone or maybe I was gone and sent here; and the quirk provided by Wyvern, the only thing that might have been able to get me out of this, had disappeared.

I was _ordinary_ and it grated.

Sister Magdalena sighed, dabbing more of the blood away from my lip. She pulled back, holding my chin up and forcing my head this way and that.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” she said. “The split isn’t too wide. Hand.”

I handed it over, hissing again as she dabbed alcohol, wiping away the blood.

Lillian would have stitched it or maybe not stitched but pulled something out of her bag that would have closed the split. If she’d been here, then I wouldn’t have gotten the swelling in the first place and maybe my knuckles would be better.

If Mary were here then I wouldn’t have even needed to fight. She would have taken the lead, beaten the guy down and maybe I would have rubbed it in. The guy, Charlie McNamara, was big and burly, more fat than muscle, and being beaten by a girl would have been a hit at his ego. I wasn’t sure _how,_ but I could see a situation where I would have used that to needle him, find some chink that would eventually get me all I wanted from him.

But I couldn’t, because I’d lost it.

“There was a letter for you,” said Sister Magdalena, interrupting me from my brooding. “It’s why I’ve been looking for you for most of the day.”

“Who’s it from?” I asked.

“Some school I’ve never heard of,” she said. “Apparently, you’ve been accepted into their ranks.”

I frowned. “That sounds suspicious,” I said.

She shrugged. “Apparently it had something to do with your parents,” she said. “It’s all…rather _odd._ But a representative is expected to arrive in the next few hours to talk to you about it. This will be a bad showing, if we’re being honest.”

An excitement bubbled inside me and all at once it deflated. I’d thought that this might be a mystery, that I could treat all of this under the lens of a mission as a Lamb, but I _wasn’t_ a Lamb anymore. I just wouldn’t be able to connect the dots the same way. I’d lost my edge.

“Whatever happens, happens,” I said with a shrug.

Sister Magdalena stroked my face, something that made shivers run up and down my spine. She gave me a long look. “I’ll pray that this goes well for you, Sylvester, because you _are_ a good boy.”

I snorted but didn’t say anything, letting her wrap bandages over my hand and thinking back to the time _before._ We’d succeeded in the end, achieved all we wanted and reached something of a truce between the Crown and our little patch of home. Everything should have been _fine,_ I should have been able to run the country without trouble and instead there was _this._

My mind was incredibly slow. I could focus now _,_ choose a thought stream and stick with it, even remember things past a few days and I didn’t have the hallucinations any more, but I was left all the weaker for it.

Within that slowness, the dullness of my mind, it was easy for time to pass; I let one of the other Sisters prepare some clean clothes for me, even fuss over my hair because they wanted me out of theirs _._ It took three hours before the woman arrived.

“I’ll be leaving you alone,” said Sister Agnes, and old woman built like a bull. I was surprised at how she didn’t react to the old woman wearing deep green robes with a crooked green hat.

 _Focus, Sly,_ I thought. But it didn’t help my brain move any faster.

I knew the stuff, but it was _deep_ within my mind, covered in mud and debris, all stuff I had to sift through to piece things together.

The woman gave me a long look, expression placid as she took me in. There was a way she was looking at me, how her eyes moved from my face to my hands that said she was taking in the injuries but I had no idea _what_ she thought. She didn’t show anything, her posture was regal, _taut_ and it wasn’t faltering as she looked at me, none of the quiver of disappointment I often saw in adults.

I wasn’t getting _anything_ when I would have been able to read her like a book if I’d still been a Lamb.

She walked into the room, going to Mother Margret’s chair behind her desk. She sat, let out a breath, digging within the folds of her robes and pulling out an envelope. I frowned because I hadn’t seen any pockets, but I hadn’t been looking closely enough to be sure.

_Jessie would have remembered._

There was that pang again, leaving me hollow as I remembered everything I’d lost. I closed my fist and hid the pain as my skin stretched, opening the scrapes a little wider. The pain gave me focus, pulling my attention away from everything else. It also made me aware that if I’d had Wyvern in my system I would have re-prioritised so that everything was pushed back, closed off that part of myself.

“Mr Lambsbridge,” the woman said and I started a little. I’d been in my head so much that I’d partially forgotten about her.

_Mary would have been disappointed._

“I am Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, and I am proud to tell you, you have been accepted to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

“Witchcraft and wizardry?” I said.

“Yes, Mr Lambsbridge,” she said. “I am a witch and _you_ are a wizard.”

I let out a short laugh. “Magic isn’t real,” I said.

“It is,” she said and with that she handed over the envelope. There was too much distance between us, I hadn’t moved since she’d come into the office, but she did nonetheless. The envelope fell out of her grasp, sliding through the air to me. I didn’t catch it so much as pluck it out of the air.

My first thought was wires. Mary could turn thrown knives. But the letter had been moving too slow and I would have seen them. My second thought was that it might be strands of translucent muscle, sending the letter to me, but this place’s technology had diverged from my history. It wasn’t bio-science that had taken off, but the hard sciences, feats of engineering that hadn’t been imagined where and when I came from.

My third thought…

“Okay,” I said with a shrug.

“Okay?” said McGonagall, there was a flicker of confusion, colour bleeding into her impassive expression, a little bit easier to read.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m a wizard, now what?”

“…you understood what I said, correct, Mr Lambsbridge?” she said.

“I’m a wizard. Yes,” I said, paying less attention to her and more the letter. I ripped the envelope open and pulled out the letter, scanning over. It talked about my entrance to Hogwarts just as she’d said and there was another piece of paper, _parchment,_ that had a list of all my school supplies. “I won’t be able to afford all of this. Not to mention where I’ll get them.”

“There’s a fund to help muggle-born students in your position,” said Minerva, and I had the sense that she was distracted.

“Where?”

“Where, _Professor?”_ she said.

I gave her a look, unable to hide my frown. She noticed, stopping herself from having too big a reaction. I would have been able to pin it down before, get a sense of what she was feeling, what she was thinking, but there was none of that.

Over and over I felt empty, untethered, and I didn’t like it.

Maybe something in this world would make me whole again? Give me the sense of purpose that came with being a Lamb?

Until then, I’d have to play along.

“My apologies, _Professor,”_ I said.

***

It was a few weeks before I found myself outside a dingy old pub. Not the type of place an eleven-year-old was supposed to be alone, but I loved it. It reminded me of the _beginning,_ when it had just been me and Gordon. He’d been learning the ropes, wanting more than just the training he got at the Academy, and I’d thought I could _retain_ skill. I’d been disappointed, but Gordon had been in his element.

 _Well you can now,_ a part of me thought. I still wasn’t the best fighter. I was scrawny and weak, more than not, I thought I could out-think my way through a fight, but at least I was _better._ So much so that I _might_ be able to take Jamie in a fight.

What I’d always wanted in a sense, but it was tainted by everything else.

I pushed the feelings back, focusing on _this._

I’d spent the last few weeks going through London and trying to find anythingconnected to magic and I’d been lucky a few times, seeing strange people wearing robes or seeing a dog that fit more into my world than this world. But I still hadn’t connected it all and I wasn’t brave enough to just go talking to random people when I couldn’t read them.

So I’d had no choice but to wait until today to get a better sense of this world.

I went in, stopping and taking everything in. It was day, reasonably good London weather, with shafts of light peeking through an overcast sky. It had been dark _,_ but not overly so, but going into the pub it felt as if it was out of phase with everything outside, giving the feel of a room with boarded up windows.

There were people, all of them dressed unabashedly in strange robes in a variety of colours. One man wore a cloak that had the night’s sky and a few planets on it, watching it, the planets moved. There were also other things: People who were too short, their features too sharp, with pointed ears and pointy teeth; a group of people who wore black, their skin so pale it almost glowed and their section of the room darker than the dingy ambiance of the place; and an old woman with a nose that was too big, moles growing out of her face, almost all of them hairy, and a back so bent she was shaped like a cane.

I couldn’t help but smile, _giggle_ because it was a step towards what I was used to. I wasn’t a Lamb, but maybe I could trick myself into believing that this place could be like home.

Looking past everything and I saw her, Professor McGonagall. She’d changed her robes, now wearing black with red and gold trimming in the arms and bottom; she wore a black hat, crooked, but it was less wrinkly than the one she’d worn before. She stood with three families and had just looked up from glancing at her watch when she saw me.

I started towards them.

“Ah, Mr Lambsbridge,” said Professor McGonagall. “You’re very nearly late.”

“This place was harder to find than I thought, Professor,” I said with a shrug. It was a lie, the real reason was because it had been hard to get up, to give myself that drive.

She hummed and I had the sense that she didn’t believe me, even if I couldn’t figure out _why_ I thought that. It was grating.

“I’d like to introduce you to your year-mates,” she said. “Hermione Granger.”

Said girl smiled. She was short and thin, but everything about her was attention grabbing, her bushy brown hair and too large front teeth. She likely didn’t feel self-conscious about them because her smile was unadulterated, not holding anything back.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Hermione Granger, standing between her parents. They smiled as well, giving small nods.

“Dean Thomas,” she said, and this time it was a black boy standing beside his mother. The boy was tall and weedy, his hair cut so short it was almost a buzz cut. Dean smiled and gave a wave, while his mother said hello.

“And Taylor Hebert,” said Professor McGonagall, pointing to the last girl.

The girl was tall and thin, taking the features of both her parents; facial features from her father, probably the bad eyes too because they were both wearing glasses; and her hair from her mother. The girl gave a bored wave, paying less attention to me and more everything around her.

I couldn’t help but get the sense she was on her guard, that she was _scouting._

“Hey,” I said.

“Since this is all of us,” said the Professor. “We should be on our way. Follow me.”

“Where are _your_ parents?” Dean asked, their parents had moved so they were around all of us, something of a shield and meaning we could walk as a group.

“Dean,” his mother chastised.

“It’s okay,” I said, giving a shrug. “I’m an orphan.”

“Oh?” said Hermione, while Taylor only gave me a look. “Sorry.”

I shrugged again. “Never really knew them so it doesn’t matter.”

It was supposed to ease the sense of awkwardness, people trying to fumble past that, but it didn’t work. Instead it left something larger. I frowned, clenching my fists and anchoring myself in the pain.

“How’s the other guy?” Taylor asked. The question had been directed at me. I raised a brow. She gestured at my fists. They were bandaged, a new set of scrapes, this time on both hands. At least this time I hadn’t been punched in the face.

I grinned. “He’ll never fight me again,” I said. I looked at the parents and I caught the sense of disapproval, but none of them said anything, too focused around us. We’d walked through the pub and out a back door into a closed off alley. Professor McGonagall pulled out a thin, ornate stick, her wand, and tapped a set of bricks. The wall closing off the alley started to shift, bricks vibrating before they pulled back in a sequence and revealing an _entire street._

I wasn’t the only one who stopped, wasn’t the only one who gaped because _what?_

I closed my eyes, trying to get a sense of how things had looked outside while going into the Leaky Cauldron. There hadn’t been _space,_ not so much that these buildings could fit in. For that matter, there were buildings so tall that I should have been able to see them from the main street. Yet I hadn’t, because…magic?

On either side of the street were buildings, almost all of them were old and almost all of them looked _bent._ It was the clearest thing that they’d been built by magic because there wasn’t a sense to them. Some buildings had bases that were too small, getting larger the more they stretched up; others _drooped,_ tilting forward like they were about break and fall; while another was in a space so thin no one should have been able to use its door, and yet as I watched, a woman stepped out of the door without trouble.

Then there were _wares:_ Brooms were the first thing I saw, one of them even suspended in the air; there was a puppet show except the puppets didn’t have strings and they were going through a full-length play, a crowd in front of that particular show and watching; there was a shop that bent how space worked, looking like a cathedral with open windows and owls perching there, watching the world beneath us. It was all too much at _once_ and it was _amazing._

“Cor,” Dean muttered and I appreciated the sentiment.

“All of this?” said Mrs Hebert. “Done through magic?”

“An extraordinary network of spells, yes,” said Professor McGonagall. “One of the larger concentrations of magic to exist without the area affected sputtering into life. Which speaks to the degree of _care_ that was taken into putting everything together.”

“Things can just come to life?” said Taylor.

“Yes,” said the Professor. “For that matter, Hogwarts is alive.”

“Because it wasn’t built right?” I asked.

“No, Mr Lambsbridge,” she said, tone reproachful. “But because of the degree of young and mischievous magic that call its walls home. Magic, in often case, reflects those who cast it.”

“Incredible,” said Mrs Hebert.

“All of this is,” said Taylor. “Makes me suspicious.”

I gave her a glance, smiling a little because she was my sort of girl.

Mrs Hebert sighed. “You’ve rubbed off too much on our daughter, Danny,” she said, though she wasn’t really looking at her husband. I could see it, though it felt different. Both Taylor and her father were on their guard, but for the former it felt like she was primed to move, while the latter was just waiting, scared of what might happen. The general sentiment, though, was true.

“Let’s be off,” said Professor McGonagall. “Our first stop will be Gringotts where you’ll exchange muggle money into ours.”

Something I didn’t really want to do. “Can I just explore?” I said. “I don’t really feel like going to a bank.”

“No, Mr Lambsbridge,” she said. “I don’t trust that you won’t add more bruises to yourself.”

“Not to mention you’re only eleven or twelve,” Mrs Granger said.

“I’m an orphan,” I said absently. “I’m used to being on my own.”

That seemed to be a slap to the face for Mrs Granger. She gaped, thinking of what to say and then stopping. It felt good, to earn the reaction, but it rang hollow because I hadn’t been trying to manipulate, that’d been my tamper working. There was nothing to feel excited about in the move because I hadn’t _consciously_ made it.

“Be that as it may,” said Professor McGonagall. “Come along.”

I was frowning as I followed, until I reminded myself that I could just come back. I still wouldn’t have money, I didn’t have money now, but I’d have unadulterated access to all of this.

“Where do you live?” Taylor asked. She was looking at me. Reading her there was the sense that she was reading me, even if I couldn’t parse _what_ she’d gleaned. “Which orphanage?”

“Saint Augusta,” I said. “You know it?”

She shook her head. “But I could find out. Maybe we meet or something?”

“Yes!” said Hermione. “We could have like a play-date, where we get to know each other before going to school.”

“That’d be cool,” said Dean. “Having people to talk with about magic.” He glanced at his mom before he whispered, “My sisters don’t like it when I talk about magic. They’re a little jealous.”

“I get that,” I said. “It’s something to watch extraordinary people from a distance.”

“Careful there, or you might sound elitist,” said Taylor.

“Aren’t we though? Being wizards?”

Professor McGonagall glanced back but didn’t say anything.

“If you feel like that a second after finding out, I wonder if something like that’s already happened here?” said Taylor, looking around, still on her guard. “There’s nothing easier for humans to do than hate.”

“You’re a bleak lot, aren’t you?” said Dean, a little distaste in his tone.

“Or realist,” said Taylor with a shrug. The doors of the bank were open and we stepped in. I shouldn’t have been surprised that the building was larger on the inside than out and yet I was; it had an open space feel, with podiums stretching up at points and short men with pointed ears, long noses and sharp teeth standing on the other side.

“Goblins,” Professor McGonagall explained. “Go to a teller and they’ll help you exchange your money. Mr Lambsbridge, stay with me while I withdraw money for your supplies.”

I nodded and followed, chafing at all of this but having no choice. There was another world just out of those walls and I wasn’t exploring it, seeing how it worked and trying to figure it out.

_Not that you can, can you? You’re less than, now. Not really Sylvester._

It sucked, but it was true. If I went out there then I’d likely be caught or I’d catch myself in a bad situation and wouldn’t be able to get out. Better now to just _stop,_ not try to do anything I couldn’t pull myself out of.

***

The trip through the bank went longer than I thought it would. Professor McGonagall, Ms Thomas and the Grangers were relatively quick, opting to exchange money and nothing else. The Heberts were the ones who made us stall. At some point they’d been offered the option to open a bank account with Gringotts, and they’d taken to asking _a lot_ of questions about how the bank was run, what affected the price of muggle money relative to wizard money, the rates for different accounts and the rate to exchange money.

In the end, they’d opted to open an account at Mrs Hebert’s urging, which was itself a process that took a bit to get done.

 _“Finally,”_ I muttered when we could travel again, but that relief dropped again because the rest of the trip was incredibly boring.

First our robes, a practise that was only exciting because there was magical tape involved; then it was getting supplies. The others got brass scales—I got those too because Hogwarts didn’t have any second-hand ones—telescopes, cauldrons, dragon-hide gloves and other things that felt miscellaneous. Then books, another long stay because Mrs Hebert and Hermione made a point of cataloguing some books they thought were interesting, stretching out the experience. I would be getting my own books at Hogwarts, there were more than a few second-hand books on-hand.

All of it made worse because we were passing so many other exciting stuff.

We reached something of a high point when I got into the Ollivander’s Wand Shop.

“Who’ll go first then?” the old man said, an excited gleam to him. “Taking the first step to truly conquering magic.”

“Me,” I said and the excitement was back, the sense of purpose. Maybe there was a spell out there that might recreate the effects of the Wyvern formula, or maybe _some_ form of magic. It was exciting to think about, that I might be the Sylvester I’d always been instead of this facsimile.

Ollivander chuckled. “Let’s begin, then,” he said and the process started. He pulled out his own wand and started waving it; a tape measure floated, measuring my arms as Ollivander asked me questions. He muttered under his breath all throughout while waving his wand and pulling out certain boxes from wall. Each box had a wand and each wand would be foisted into my grasp before being quickly pulled away before I could even really hold the things.

Finally, on touching one wand I felt something, a sudden spark running through me, and that spark ran forward, letting lose a plume of shimmering green dust that faded before it hit the ground.

“Dogwood,” said Ollivander with a smile. “Dragon heartstring, thirteen inches, very flexible. One of my personal favourite wand woods. It’s mischievous, very good for charms and jinxes.”

I made the mental note, hoping I’d remember, but more than anything looking at the thin, knobby stick that would give me the power to bend space if I applied myself.

“Wait,” I said. “What happens if I break or lose it?”

“Another wand may choose you,” said Ollivander. “But it won’t be as good a fit as that one. The wand chooses the wizard and not all of them might choose you.”

“Try not to lose it, Mr Lambsbridge,” said Professor McGonagall, as if it was that easy.

Hermione volunteered next. It didn’t take too long before she got hers: Vine, dragon heartstring core, ten and three-quarter inches. Taylor followed: Aspen, dragon heartstring, ten and a quarter inch. Then Dean: Rowan, phoenix tail-feather, eleven inches.

“And that,” said Professor McGonagall, “marks the end of our day. Mr Lambsbridge,” she said and she pulled out a rucksack from a pocket—which didn’t even surprise me at this point. “This has been enchanted to keep your magical belongings and hide them from the others in your orphanage. I _trust_ you’ll remember that the Statute of Secrecy exists and if you break it, you might be expelled from Hogwarts and your wand snapped.”

“I understand, Professor,” I said, taking the rucksack.

“Good,” she said. “Have a safe trip back home, all of you, and I’ll see you on your first day at Hogwarts.”

With that she turned and disappeared with a soft _pop._

“Mum,” said Hermione, “Can I get a pet?”

Just as Mrs Hebert was saying. “I think I saw a library. Let’s pop in, see about getting a card.”

“Yes,” said Hermione, “that too?”

With Dean saying, “Ice cream!”

Finally, some room to breathe.

***

Magic, I learnt, was split into branches: Charms, which were generally spells that gave something an effect; Transfiguration, which gave or changed the form of something; and Potions which were drink that could have charm-like or transfiguration-like effects. Charms were generally short lasting; Transfiguration was incredibly hard to learn and the people most proficient in it could be counted on one hand; which made Potions the easiest route.

I pulled my rucksack closer and kept an eye out on my surroundings. I wasn’t as adept as I’d been with Wyvern, but I still had my prey instinct and it usually went off even if I couldn’t parse the pieces. It was early evening, the streets had mostly cleared and shops were starting to close their doors, their patrons already gone.

I found an apothecary and got in, looking through their potion sets for anything that might help me. I didn’t find anything in the first potion shop, they seemed to care about medicinal properties and that wasn’t what I wanted. The next place was general purpose and I moved through its stocks. There was Invigoration Draught, but that only brought with it a surge of energy and took away the effects of fatigue than alter how I thought; there was a draught that caused temporary amnesia; one that could make a person speak only the truth; one that was a hallucinogenic; one that brought about synaesthesia; another that could push certain senses so they were more perceptive while dulling others.

“I’m closing up soon,” said a woman and I started. She was old, maybe in her late eighties and she wore the brightest of blue robes. She had a tired air about her, made worse by the heavy wrinkles and sagging face. “Want help with what you’re looking for?”

“Um…it’s…sort of…I don’t know what its name is or if it actually exists,” I said, putting on a smile. She gave me a bored look.

“You know what it does?”

I nodded. “It’s supposed to make you smarter,” I said. “Or at least more pliable.”

“Wyvern?”

My heart jumped. What were the odds that something like that existed and it was named as it had been named before?

“Yeah. Yes,” I said, because I didn’t really care. I could be me again.

“That’s restricted,” the woman said. “Ministry clamped down on it because it destroyed the brain. The woman who made the stuff got bored and didn’t perfect it after that. Not to mention she didn’t give out the recipe.”

 _Fuck._ “That mean you don’t sell it?” I asked.

“Selling it would be illegal,” she said. Which I noticed wasn’t a no. “What’s your name?”

My prey instinct went off and I took a step back, trying to figure out what it was that was setting it off. I had the impulse to run, to hide, but this woman was a witch and there was no telling what she could do. Maybe I could jump her, she was old and would be frail. I could push her and run, not giving her time to get her wand.

“Simon,” I said. “Simon Ewesmont.”

“Sylvester Lambsbridge,” she said. I started forward and suddenly stopped, my arms hitting my sides and my legs slamming together. I fell face first, hitting the ground _hard._ I felt something stabbing at my back before I felt weightless, even if I couldn’t move, instead being guided through the air.

I caught sight of the woman as she pointed her wand, at once everything shifted, shutters and doors closing, and windows without shutters darkening. Candles all throughout the place lit, bathing it in a low red light.

She walked forward, guiding me with a point of the wand. We went to a back door, up a narrow flight of stairs and into a room above. She flicked her wand one direction and my body jerked to follow. Whatever spell she’d put on me faded and I could move for the barest second, but it was only enough so I could sit on a large chair and not be able to move again.

I could do nothing but watch as she went to a fireplace, light it with her wand, grabbed some powder and threw it into the fire. The flame flared, going green and she knelt into the fire. I hoped that she would burn, hoped that she would catch aflame and the spell would be undone, but that didn’t happen.

She talked even if I couldn’t hear the words, a long conversation before she pulled back, coming to a rise. The flame flared again, burning hotter and towering higher before a frame stepped through. I didn’t know her, too much had changed even if she had the same general features, it was that prey instinct again, telling me things without showing me _why_ it believed those things: Genevieve Fray.

***

“Sylvester,” she said and there was a smile to her that made alarm bells at the back of my head ring. But I couldn’t do anything, I was _stuck,_ more than useless. “I’m genuinely excited to see you, even with the risk that it might be Sylvester the Noble.”

“No,” I said. “It isn’t.”

“No,” she agreed. She’d been stylish before and she was still stylish now. She wore a black and red dress, with a lace frill at her neck; above the dress was a cloak, long enough that it might have hidden her dress, but moving so it showed beneath. She was the only witch I’d seen wearing heels. She reached into a slit in the cloak and pulled out a long brown stick, waving it around with poise.

She took three minutes before she was done, after which she pointed her wand at me, giving it a flick. The spell holding me in place unravelled and I could move.

“You’re _neutered_ Sylvester,” she said.

I frowned, because it _hurt,_ because it was _true._ “Not even a Lamb anymore,” I admitted.

Fray sighed. “You killed me,” she said. “That’s the last thing I remember.”

I frowned, searching and not finding it. “That isn’t true.”

Fray waved a hand. “You gave me Wyvern while leaving me in the _dark,”_ she said. “As good _as_ when we’d been dealing with…”

“I wasn’t me,” I said. “Too much damage from the Wyvern.”

She nodded. “You were a heavy thought in my mind when I was reinterpreting Wyvern,” she said. “The kind of break that formed in your mind. I wanted safeguards, put limiters in the formula, it was fortuitous that _this_ happened and I was part of a world of magic. You were a heavy thought in other things I’ve been doing.”

“Do you know what this is?” She shook her head. I sighed. “I don’t like it. Things were good, all things considered, even subsumed I was still with them.”

“I don’t think we’ll be able to go back,” she said. “I’ve set out feelers, given people names to pay attention to and you’re the first one that’s popped up. I think we’re alone, Sylvester.”

She reached into her pocket, pulling out a vial with green liquid.

“But perhaps we can be alone together?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Sylvester**

I might have looked like an idiot, but I didn’t care.

I sat on a chair outside of Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, watching as Diagon Alley woke up. Fray sat on the other side of me, doing that strange thing of hers of just _showing_ me how she was feeling. She was happy, there was that glint in her eyes, in how she sat and how she held herself; the slight smile that would twig at the corner of her lips; and how her eyes would take particular interest every time I filled a spoonful of ice-cream and gobbled it down.

_Peppermint and grass. If you were here, Helen, maybe you’d love this._

But she was also guarded. She was likely ambidextrous but favoured her right hand. Since we’d left her apartment this morning, since we’d sat, she hadn’t pulled her hand out of her pocket, it was likely close to her wand.

She was periphery though. As much as I was reading, there was so much more that I was missing, it would be a _challenge,_ but I didn’t want that right now. What I wanted now, was to just enjoy _watching:_

A woman, wearing dull grey robes. She had a bent back, leaning too hard on one leg and was continually looking over her shoulder. There wasn’t a _manic_ to her, but there was an edge, the feel of a survivor. Her hand wasn’t hovering at her side, though, where her wand should be, which meant…

“She’s a…squid?” I said, looking at Fray and gesturing at the woman with my head.

“Squib,” Fray corrected and she couldn’t hold back her smile. “Yes, I think she might be.” There was an inflection in her voice, something deeper but she kept it away from her expression.

“There’s something there,” I said. “Something I’m missing. She’s on her guard but isn’t paranoid.”

“There was a war not ten years ago, if I have my dates right,” she said. “A man…” She stopped, looking around. It was so early in the morning that most shops hadn’t opened yet. The street was mostly empty and _ordinary,_ which was disappointing until a person appeared from thin air, Apparating into the street and reminding me where I was.

Fray and I were the only people at Fortescue’s. I could see the owner behind a clouded partition, moving in the back, but most of the morning clean up was being done by magic. A broom that swept itself, chairs jumping off where they were put on tables and tucking themselves in.

“Voldemort,” she said, the word whispered. I frowned but didn’t comment. She’d been pretty good about telling me everything I wanted to know. “Led a war against those he called wizards and witches of lower stock. Squibs, Muggle-borns and people who married them were targeted.”

I looked at the woman again, taking her in, filling in the missing pieces. She was scared that she would be attacked, which gave credence to Fray saying that the war was in recent history, or maybe she’d been attacked directly? She was favouring one leg, which could mean being tortured or hurt, something magic didn't heal.

“The war ended,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean things changed…?”

Fray nodded. “It’s…tenuous. Voldemort, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as he’s referred to, was killed by a boy your age. Harry Potter. _How_ this happened, people don’t really know. But he’s been gone and the war just sort of ended.”

“What about his supporters?” I asked. “One man doesn’t a war make. Makes more sense if he was riding off something that was always there.”

“What are you thinking, Sylvester?” she said, her guard further up. The smile was gone and she was sitting straighter. Even so, she still didn’t guard her emotions. She felt sorry for me, a sympathy I didn't like, but there was also the fear, the determination of one willing to do something they'd hate themselves for.

I smiled…or smiled further. I was _happier_ and it was hard to school my features. I still didn’t have the Lambs, still wasn’t _whole,_ but a chunk of my _self_ had been filled in.

“I don’t know yet,” I said.

Fray took a deep breath and let it out, lips pursing in thought. “Sylvester—”

I shook my head. “You don’t have to worry,” I said. “Things are different. I won’t be using the same approach.”

“But I _have_ to worry,” she said. “We’re plotters, you and I, and we don’t like each other.”

_She’s a manipulator. Give her time and she can convince me to do anything. I have to stop her rhythm, make things harder by making her refine her approach, casting away certain parts while forming others. Keep her on the backfoot._

“Things aren’t as bad as before,” I interrupted. She stopped, giving me a look, telling me she knew what I was doing. I grinned, feeling excited because _this_ was what I’d been missing. I still had my prey instinct, giving me an overview of all the little things I noticed, but I could break it down, refine it.

“You’re not taking this seriously,” she said.

“I am,” I returned. “Things aren’t as bad as before. _You_ aren’t as bad as before. There’s no Hayle, no conspiracy that makes the people I love playthings. I have no reason to dislike you.”

“I…I made a lot of mistakes, in the past,” she said. “And it’s only with perspective that I realise that.”

“Bygones,” I said, stretching out a hand for her to shake. She looked at it for a long moment before she shook it. Her hands weren’t cold, which meant circulation was better, which meant she didn’t have her needles in her fingers.

“I do,” she said. She detached her hand from mine and the needles pushed out. “I’m using magic to imitate good circulation.”

My grin got larger. “How’d you see it?”

“You’re wearing your emotions for everyone to see,” she said. “It’s…endearing, especially after seeing you depressed and purposeless.”

“Gotta work on that,” I said, taking another spoonful of my peppermint and grass ice-cream, taking in every facet of the flavour. It shouldn’t have worked, because what sense was there in grass-flavoured anything? But there was a depth to the taste of grass which mixed well with the texture of the ice-cream.

I looked at Fray and she’d let down her guard again.

“Adopt me,” I said. A brow rose. “Are there wizard orphans?”

“Yes, but the wizard population is small and insular. It’s not out of the question to have a wide web of familial ties. Even with the war, the number of orphans is low. The number of orphans who haven’t been adopted or have guardians, only you.”

I nodded. “No orphanages,” I said. “I think Professor McGonagall would have offered to have me changed into a wizard orphanage if she could, that she didn’t was telling. I don’t mind being at the orphanage, but I want to be in the thick of _this,_ at least until I break the Statute of Secrecy.”

“Don’t even joke, Sylvester,” she said.

I let out a chuckle. “Are you working on that yet?” I asked.

“I’m working on a lot of things,” she said. “Most of which I won’t tell you in case we ever work against each other.”

“And here I thought we’d let bygones be bygones.”

“I’m still very much afraid of you, Sylvester,” she said.

“You gotta get over that,” I said.

“No. I think I shouldn’t.”

I shrugged. “About adopting me?”

“You’d chafe,” she said. “Me as a parent.”

“But you wouldn’t be a parent,” I said. “I’m not sure if I said this _before,_ but I always saw you as a sister. Things just got muddied along the way.”

“You did,” she said. “It made me happier, having heard that.”

“Well, here, now, you won’t be a parent but an older sister. A guiding hand, but still letting me do what I want. More than anything, you’ll be able to stop me if I’m about to do something particularly disastrous.”

“Would you listen to me?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I might.”

“Keeping you close,” she said. “It’s better, makes you an element I can, if not control, then keep a watch over, but it also means less distance to cover before you stab me in the back.”

“That’s the risk,” I said.

She sighed. “I _did_ miss you,” she said, “even in the abstract.”

“Is that a yes?” I said.

“Yes,” she said.

“Woo!” People looked in my direction, but on noting I was a child, went back to whatever they were doing. Fray was smiling.

“Usually, this would take months,” she said. “But I have people. I’ll get the process started. It shouldn’t take more than a week.”

“Awesome,” I said. I put on an accent. “Can I go exploring, Mum? I want to see more of this world.”

“I’ll come with you,” she said. “You’re about the same age and it wouldn’t be too out of the question to have people kill you thinking you’re the Boy-Who-Lived.”

“That and to keep an eye on me,” I said.

“Yes.”

***

The dimensions of the Wizarding World were strange, but they began to make sense under the lens of a world where travel could take mere seconds.

Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley were the central business districts that existed in _all_ of magical Great Britain, or the British Isles in this world—the history here was different, with the Crown having lost power and having to make concession which meant the world map was different—and the Crown States were now the United States. It was distracting to think about, which I _didn’t_ because it wasn’t important.

What was important was making sense of it all, getting a picture in my mind that would give me the abstract of how it all fit together.

Diagon and Knockturn Alley were the commercial and financial district. Gringotts was the crux of this, with the shops having formed around it in large part. There were people who lived here in small apartments above their shops, but it wasn’t the norm for people to live in Diagon Alley. There was the Ministry of Magic, in Whitehall. It was the government district and all of it was in _one_ building.

“It would be too conspicuous to have us go there, at least for now, but you’ll be able to see the place when you’re called in for the enquiry.”

“Okay,” I said, only barely paying attention.

People as a whole lived either alone in the middle of nowhere, because they _could,_ not having to worry about travel, or within little villages amongst Muggles. It made this place seem disjointed, unconnected, but when you thought about it as travel being a non-effort, then it all made sense.

“This world seems harsh on people that can’t travel on a whim,” I said. “At least if the picture in my head makes sense.”

“Floo powder,” she said. “With the stuff and any fireplace, you can travel to any other home that’s registered.”

“That’s how you travelled into that woman’s shop,” I said.

She nodded. “In large part, though, most things make it hard to be a Squib or anyone non-magical coming into this world,” she said. “Something I’m taking great pains to ease.”

“So that’s what you’re working on,” I said.

She shrugged. “I’m working on a lot of things,” she said. “But yes, this is one of them.”

“Trying to make the world better?”

“Trying to keep myself occupied,” she said. “I’ve been terribly bored most of the time. There are smart people here, exemplary, but I had a head start, and in most of my plots I’m catching them unaware.”

“You want a challenge.” I said.

“I wouldn’t mind one,” she said. “But _please_ Sylvester, don’t mould yourself around that task.”

“I won’t,” I said. “I’m sort of lost _what_ I’ll be trying to do, even if I have the first step already in mind. How good are you at finding people? There’s something I want to check out.”

“How well known are they?” she asked.

“Not,” I said. “They’re a new Hogwarts student. Taylor Hebert.”

“A few hours,” she said. “Why?”

“I think she might make a good Lamb,” I said with a smile. There was a pang but I pushed it away, not entirely forgetting, but giving it less weight. She had the right markers, even to my non-Wyvern brain. “I want to see her under the new lens.”

“Be careful,” she said. “Manipulate someone enough, and the moment they spot it, they’ll hate you.”

“I’ll make a point of it,” I said. “Teach me a spell?”

She sighed, pulling out a watch from her dress, glancing at it then nodding. “I really _should_ be going about my day,” she said. “But I’ll give you another hour of my time.” She took my shoulder, turned and then I was _sucked_ into a straw, not able to move, not able to breathe, before I was pushed free, stumbling forward in front into Fray’s apartment.

She didn’t stumble, only striding forward.

“I think,” she said, “with your nature, you’ll enjoy the Tripping Jinx.”

“Without a doubt,” I said with a large grin.

***

Wyvern made learning easy, it made retention without practice hard, but that didn’t matter now. It didn’t take me an hour to learn the spell. The hand motions were intricate and I had to pay attention to how I spoke, but when I had it down, I _had it down._

It was an afternoon with reasonably good weather. I sat in a park overlooked by Taylor Hebert’s apartment building. I wanted more than anything to just go to her place—I didn’t know how, yet, but Fray had gotten her address—but that would be bad in the long run. I still didn’t have too good a read on her, but she’d been on alert, guarded, and if I just appeared, she might be suspicious.

Of course the suspicions of an eleven-year-old wouldn’t mean much, but I couldn’t start things off with her against me.

My read might be wrong, but until I was sure of it being wrong, she felt like the perfect material for being a Lamb.

I had to be delicate. I still didn’t know what I was working with.

Good weather and with it being the last days of summer, kids were out in full force and tired parents with them. I sat on my own under tree cover, set so most of the attention was away from me. I kept an eye on movement, tracking attention, waiting for the perfect moment until—

“Lapsus,” I said with a wave of the wand. A burst of blue white light shot out, near silent except for a low hiss and I _missed,_ the spell hitting a trash can just beside a man who’d been jogging in the middle of the afternoon. He stopped because there’d been a clang, but continued to run, looking back at the can in confusion before his attention got back to his jogging.

I frowned, but it didn’t matter. I’d get better.

I watched the crowd, watched the children, _drinking_ all of it in.

Kids young to eleven and they were _playing._ At that age, you were supposed to be well into adulthood, but that wasn’t the case here, there were even thirteen-year olds who were more childlike than ten-year olds I knew. It was _strange,_ but I had to remind myself that these were different circumstances.

The moment felt right and I let out the spell again, hitting a teenager who’d been chasing a dog that’d gotten off its leash. I hit and the girl tripped, falling face first and only barely catching herself with her arms; the fall meant three other dogs escaped and ran off.

“Yes,” I said, feeling triumphant. Between the dogs barking, that the girl had screamed and that there were _kids_ here, it was an event. The kids either broke into laughter or chased the dogs that’d escaped. People rushed to help the girl, most of them young guys, which meant the majority of the attention was away from me.

Another blue-white spell left and hit a man at the fringes of the group moving to help the girl. He fell face first, which split the attention between the two. I used that and fired off another spell, and there was another slip which split the attention even more, but more and more people were coming in _._

I watched the crowd, seeing it grow and holding back. No one was hurt and the dogs had been caught, but people were talking about it, paying attention to the patch of land and seeing if there were any adversely _slippery_ parts of it. People who hadn’t seen the event were stopping, asking and making the crowd grow further.

Ten minutes and I saw her, Taylor Hebert and her mother, just having come in because of the commotion.

I grinned, starting towards them.

She spotted me and was immediately on her guard. She said something to her mom and her mom turned away from the crowd, looking at me. Mrs Hebert smiled, none of her daughter’s guard, beckoning me forward.

“Sylvester, right?” said Mrs Hebert.

“Yeah,” I said. “You live around here?”

I glanced at Taylor and it was all wrong. She didn’t _express_ herself with her face all that much, but her body was different: She stood straight, shoulder’s squared and looked _primed,_ a coiled spring ready for motion. She didn’t really _stop,_ instead her eyes were constantly flickering in every direction, trying to take everything in but it didn’t give off the feel of a person who was scared like the Squib woman, not looking over her shoulder.

But when she focused, she _focused._

Right now, it seemed like all her attention was on me.

“What happened here?” said Mrs Hebert. She looked at me.

“Missed how it started,” I said. “But someone tripped I think.”

“I’ll find out,” said Mrs Hebert. “You two stay here?”

Taylor nodded, smiled as she looked at her mom, but the moment she was gone, the smile disappeared.

I smiled.

“Something’s different about you,” she said. “Are you drunk?”

“I’m eleven,” I said. She didn’t say anything, which was a piece to the person she was. She _knew_ it was a non-answer but she wasn’t playing the game. “No, I’m not drunk. I’m going to be adopted.”

“How?” she said, stopped as her expression worked: _Worried about foot-in-mouth._ “I mean, that doesn’t make sense? How did that happen from _yesterday_ to today?”

“Just lucky I guess,” I said with a shrug. It was a cheap tactic, putting forward a mystery and then making her hungry to solve it. I was making her ask questions, which gave me the better footing, deciding what I would and wouldn’t tell her.

“I didn’t tell you where I lived,” she said. “How’d you find me?”

“How did I find you?” I said. “I didn’t think you were paranoid. I was just in the area.”

“I don’t trust that. I don’t trust you. What are you doing here?”

“I thought we were going to be friends, before going to Hogwarts,” I said.

“Yeah, but from that to _this._ I don’t know if there’s magic involved, but the only other explanation is that you followed us back home, which can’t be true. What’s going on here?”

I chuckled. “You’re smart,” I said. I caught a flicker of irritation.

She sighed. “You’re a stalker,” she said. “A young one, but it’s still creepy. So,” she shook her head, “let’s not do this. Let’s keep our distance, okay?”

_Okay. How do I change this?_

There was still the mystery approach, playing it up, but that would only annoy her. I couldn’t help the grin because _this_ was what I loved. She wasn’t the person I’d thought she was but she _was_ Lamb material. That made me just want her more.

“You’re smiling now,” she said, “which makes me worried. Sylvester, I’ll tell you this once and only once. If you mess with me or my family, I won’t hesitate to hurt you.”

A giggle slipped and I pushed it down. This wasn’t helping but I couldn’t help but see Mary and Helen in her. She’d put her _all_ into the threat and I believed her.

“Okay,” I said. “Sorry. I’ll see you at Hogwarts.”

“Not looking forward to it,” she said.

“Bye, Taylor,” I said as she was going to her mom.

She just left, giving me her back and not even glancing back.

_Yeah, she’s going to be one of my Lambs._

***

“I’ve got my first Lamb,” I said to Fray. “She doesn’t like me yet.”

“Should I be worried?” she said.

I shook my head. “I did some stuff, tripped a few people, but it—”

“That’s called Muggle baiting and it’s _illegal,”_ she said. “Don’t do it again.”

I smirked. “I won’t.”

“No. Sylvester—”

“I won’t need to again,” I said. “Cross my heart,” and I crossed my heart.

She took a breath and let it out. “I think I’m starting to have a sliver of what Hayle felt through his tenure,” she said.

“This isn’t even the start, mummy,” I said.

She sighed. “Don’t,” she said. “Let’s get you presentable. We’re due for the Ministry in a few hours.”

The Ministry could have been _fun,_ but I couldn’t let it. It would be fun in the short-term, but in the long it would mean I wouldn’t get my Lambs. I couldn’t have that. So I smiled when it seemed right, said what they expected and had a hit of Wyvern before drinking a truth serum so I wouldn’t say the wrong thing. All of it looked above board, but there may be a _lot_ of shady stuff going on behind the scenes.

It took most of the day and I was left drained because I hadn’t done much. All I could do was watch as Fray made contact with the people she was working with.

“How long?” I asked when no one was listening.

“About twenty years,” she said.

“That’s a _lot_ of time,” I said.

“Most of it I was at the bottom, starting things up while working towards the future,” she said. “I was adrift while at Hogwarts, trying to find an anchor. I didn’t until the war broke out.”

“Do you secretly run this place, yet?”

She shook her head. “But it’s only a matter of time.”

“This is going to be fun,” I said.

She gave me a look, because she was worried and I didn’t blame her.

She knew me too well.

***

Dean wasn’t Lamb material. Maybe it could be that he would be better when he was older, but there wasn’t that kernel in him that I could mould into something else. Hermione, she reminded me of Lillian. She was smart, needing a steady pressure to give her purpose, but that might break her, making her terrible when she seemed good.

It wasn’t worth it.

I’d be going to Hogwarts soon, where there’d be other kids, where any of them might have potential to be a Lamb.

_Patience, Sylvester._


	3. Chapter 3

**Blake**

_Damn it, Grandmother, but you’re still a cunt._

“My _time,”_ Grandmother was saying, “and for this?”

Rose was like me. All of this craziness had happened to the both of us. Me being pulled away from being a bird, being with Evan and Green Eyes; and she’d been pulled away from Alister, her obligations with the Abyss and the Karmic debt. She’d been through a lot of shit in her time as Thorburn Heiress, a lot of it because of Grandmother and yet her words hit Rose's inner child.

“Mother,” said Dad and it was so strange to hear him with an English accent.

“A _child’s charm?”_ Grandmother said.

“No other child can say they’ve done this,” Dad said. “Not even at Hogwarts yet and she’s proficient with the Levitation Charm. _Self-taught._ ”

Grandmother tsked. “Honestly,” she said and she stood, reaching into her robes and pulling out a watch. “Do you know what I put off to come here?” she said. “The world is _changing,_ creatures sprouting from nowhere and no one knows why. I could be there studying that, but instead I’m here, watching a child levitate a pillow.”

“Your grandchild,” Dad said.

“And that’s supposed to mean something?” she said. She sighed, looking at Rose and then at me. “I’ve seen you two,” she said. “Seen how smart you are and it impresses me. You father’s noticed and that’s what _this_ is about. If you’re upset, if your feelings are hurt, then blame _him_ for wasting my time.” She looked at Dad. “I have no more time for this. From now on, I’ll be denying any invitations from you until the lesson’s set that my time is not to be wasted.”

Not even a goodbye and she strode off.

Dad took a deep breath, looking at me and Rose. “To your rooms, now.”

I looked at Rose and we didn’t say anything, leaving the room and going upstairs to my room.

“I _hate_ her,” said Rose the moment the door had slammed shut. “I hate her. I hate her. I _hate_ her.”

“Why does this affect you so much?” I asked. “Grandmother’s a bitch. We both know this.”

“Blake,” she said and she took a breath, all her frustration there. “She put us through _shit._ All of that _shit_ and…what? Nothing?”

“She doesn’t remember,” I said. “None of them do. For some reason all of this happened to us, it feels like they were pulled in by accident.”

She groaned. “I don’t know, Blake,” she said “I don’t know. I don’t _know._ It’s just…” I waited and she flailed, mouth opening and closing as she tried to find something and she couldn’t. She walked to my bed and threw herself face first.

A four-poster bed with green curtains with silvery trimmings, above the bed was a long landscape painting filled with forest and moving birds. The place felt cramped, everything too close to the other but that was because space was hidden. I had a wardrobe to one side, a tall and ornate thing to that was too big on one side, a window close to my bed that looked small but I could jump out of it without trouble; and a desk with a short bookcase that held more books that it should.

I sat on the desk, watching Rose.

She let out a long groan. “This doesn’t make sense,” she finally said.

“I mean it makes sense when you think about it,” I said.

“Okay, it does,” she said looking up. “We’re the same person, that’s why we’re here, but…everything else? Why is it that I’m still the same person? Why is it that everything that drove me because of the Barber is still driving me now?”

“Demons,” I said.

 _“Demons,”_ she muttered and she sighed. She turned over, gave me a look and my stomach dropped.

“No. _Please,”_ I said.

“We have to think about it.”

“Why? _Why?”_ I said. “It’s not going to help us. This happened and it’s too _big._ Do you really think we can help this?”

“If we hit the books, then—”

 _“Rose,”_ I said. It was getting more and more uncomfortable thinking about it. “No. Let’s not.”

“Evan? Green Eyes?” she said and my pocket burned. I looked and a hole had burned through my pants, my wand fell out, an unintentional spell. Rose was on her feet, scared as she looked at me. I hadn’t meant to do that, hadn’t meant to blow off, but I couldn’t help it yet. Maybe it was having a young body and not being able to control my hormones or was that a handy excuse?

“Don’t, Rose,” I said. I took a breath, picking up my wand and going to my wardrobe. I opened it and pulled out my broom. On turning, Rose was there, looking at me, but it was better not to pay attention to her. I didn’t hate her like before, didn’t have that drive to kill her, but that had been a bitch move.

I got out into the hall and I could hear Mom and Dad fighting. I went back in my room, Rose Shifting to the side as I went to the window. I scaled out, angling my broom just right so I could get into the air.

A few hours flying so I didn’t have to think.

***

“Wingardium Leviosa,” I said and finally the spell worked. It hit my bed and it shot up into the air, hitting the ceiling before it fell with a heavy _crack._

“Weak!” said Peter, hands cupped around his mouth.

“You guys know that this is illegal, right?” said Paige. She was sitting with Rose, both reading a Charms book. They’d looked up at the bed crashing to the floor.

“Are you _really_ my sister?” said Peter, giving an aghast look at Paige. “Because who gives a _fuck?”_

“You know,” said Rose, “it shows you’re not used to swearing if you do it all the time.”

“Shut up,” he said. He pulled out his wand and pointed, swished and muttered a spell under his breath. The spell shot out with a crackling hiss, slapped into one of the posters of my bed and changed it from brown to magenta.

“It’s not supposed to do that,” said Paige. “Crackle. Shows in experience.”

“Like _you_ could do it any better,” said Peter.

“I can,” she said and she got up, pulling out her wand, spindly and near white. There was a certain perfection to her movements as she swished her wand, said the spell. The spell flew out and there was a gentler hiss. It hit the bed and the colour changed.

“Okay,” I said. “That’s cool and all, but—”

“Why do you guys keep doing that?” Paige interrupted.

“Doing what?” Rose asked.

“You sometimes sound American.”

Rose and I shared a look. “There are two sets of Thorburn twins,” I said, an easy lie. It felt so good to be able to lie. “We have to differentiate ourselves.” I shrugged.

Paige looked at Rose.

“I just think it’s fun,” she said.

“Okay, that feels like a lie,” said Peter. “What’s _really_ going on?”

“If you don’t want to believe it, then fine,” I said. “Teach me another spell.”

“But that’s _illegal,”_ said Peter, looking at Paige.

Paige held up her middle finger, going to sit down in front of Rose.

“Um…” said Peter. “We could shoot sparks?”

“Outside,” said Rose. “You might burn the house.”

“If we go outside neighbours might see us,” I said.

“We can be really, really, _really_ careful,” said Peter.

I smiled.

“Blake,” Rose warned.

“We could get buckets,” I said. “Or maybe go to the living room and break some stuff for the show Dad put on with Grandmother.”

Rose mirrored my smile.

“No,” said Paige. “Rose, you’re supposed to be like _me._ Not a stupid _boy_.”

“Okay, I resent that,” said Peter.

“I think you mean resemble,” said Paige, “I.E. to be similar or bear a resemblance to.”

“I know what resemble means,” said Peter.

“Oh? Colour me surprised,” she said. Peter stuck out his tongue. I chuckled. It was _so_ weird to see them like this, brother and sister when it felt like they’d spent _all_ their lives at each other’s throats.

“I want to though,” said Rose. “Break some stuff.”

“I know a spell!” said Peter.

Paige sighed. “I know the spell to fix things,” she said.

“Ha!” said Peter. “You just want to get in on the fun.”

Paige blushed.

The four of us went down stairs to a drawing room. Rose had a good sense of the magical stuff that wouldn’t be easily repaired with a Charm and we put those away, then we started breaking stuff with vigour. Fixing them wasn’t _as_ fun, especially when it was harder for me to learn the Repairing Charm than the jinx Peter had taught me, but we got things back before our parents got back.

“Bye,” said Paige, giving Rose a hug. “Next time we see each other will be on the Express.”

“See you there,” said Rose.

“Give me a fist bump,” said Peter. “I saw some Muggles doing it.”

“Wait,” I said. “Um…Bump my fist…now open your hand and flutter it, like you’re twinkling your fingers.”

“Okay,” he said and he mirrored me as I did it.

“Now let’s hook our thumbs…pull back the hand so it’s like a handshake…” That part was a little more awkward, needing more coordination so our fingers didn’t hit into each other. “Okay, now close fist and rub our thumbs against each other, then pull back, locking our fingers a little as we pull away.”

That part was harder because I’d explained it badly, but after three tries he got the general idea.

“Lame!” said Paige.

“Shut up,” said Peter.

“We’ll work on it,” I said. “It’s supposed to be cooler if you do it faster and we can add more stuff. The longer it is without making a mistake, the cooler it’ll be.”

“I don’t think that’ll _ever_ be cool,” said Rose.

“Jealousy is unbecoming,” I said with a light smile.

“Whatever,” she said, reflecting the smile. “Bye Peter.”

Peter waved. Peter first and then Paige. The got into our fireplace and Flooed home.

“Okay that was… _creepy_ ,” Rose said.

“No inheritance looming over us,” I said.

“Even so, Paige and Peter getting along?”

“Peter’s still young. He hasn’t refined his assery.”

“That sounds gross,” she said, chuckling. “Could it be that our family’s got it together?”

“If only we were that lucky,” I said. “Still some shenanigans. Mom and Dad keep trying to gain favour. They might want a larger inheritance when dear old grandmother kicks the bucket.”

“Could be,” said Rose. “But I’d rather not think about it. At least it’s not the stuff from before. Karma, the Lawyers, all the shit in Jacob’s Bell.”

“That,” I said. “Even with everything, I think I might like it here.”

Rose didn’t say anything. Which gave me a bad feeling.

I sighed. “You’re usually like this before you make me hate you,” I said.

“I’m going to look for a way back,” she said. “I…I was starting to love him, Alister. I…”

I shook my head. “I’m not opening that up,” I said. “I’m sorry, Rose, but… _fuck._ What hope is there? Something like this? God level at best and you think you can just undo it?”

“But it’s _not_ about undoing it,” said Rose. “Something like this isn’t about just doing, it’s about the _perception_ of doing. Look, think about it, bringing Grandmother back to life, Callan, taking away all the Abyss taint you, me and Kathy would have tracked in? That doesn’t just happen. But if we’re _transplanted,_ then it makes more sense.”

“Give yourself hope and there’s a chance you’ll be let down _hard,”_ I said. “I don’t want that.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to keep looking for a way back,” she said.

“Do what you like. But don’t get me involved okay? Don’t pull me with you if you try something stupid and it causes disaster.”

“Nice vote of confidence,” she said.

I shrugged, walking away. A nice day and she’d had to go and ruin it.

***

“And that’s it,” said Ellie appearing from a wall, already scanning for her friends. “You’re out of my hair. The train leaves you behind and that’s your problem.” She looked at Peter and Paige. “You two, make sure you don’t miss the train because I’ll have Dad on my case and if that happens I’ll be on your case all through the year, okay?”

“Whatever,” said Paige.

“Love you too, sis,” said Peter. Ellie just ignored them, going to a group of girls that had been waiting for her.

She hadn’t changed, still someone I’d call _trash_ if she wasn’t my cousin, but with less trashy tattoos. The people she hung out with were the same, the sort of people who’d skip class to smoke in the toilets, making a point of tearing into anyone who got in at the wrong moment, all of it for sport.

“Which house are they in?” I asked. “Ellie’s group.”

“Slytherin,” said Peter, a hint of disgust on him. “They’re…at the bottommost rung, not even the good kind of half-bloods. I don’t know why she hangs out with them.”

 _“You’re_ a half-blood,” said Rose.

Peter frowned even more. Blood was important, something we’d learnt since finding ourselves here. Peter’s branch of the family was half-blood because Uncle Paul had married Aunt Stephanie whose family, along the line, had married a muggle and thus ‘sullied’ their blood line. Of course this mostly didn’t matter because Peter’s other side of the family was insanely rich, but it would be a mark against him in certain circles.

It was very likely worse because Rose and I were pure-bloods.

“Yeah. Well…I said good-kinds,” he said. “We’re the good-kinds.”

“Don’t really care,” said Paige. “Good thing about being in Ravenclaw. We don’t care about this shit.”

“Oh, so hoity-toity,” said Peter, giving Paige a light push. She scowled at him, but didn’t return the gesture. “Whatever. Which house are you going to, Blake? Would be good to have a Thorburn that’s not Ellie there.”

I shook my head. “Not Slytherin, sorry,” I said.

“Blake’ll likely go to Gryffindor,” said Rose.

“Ha!” said Paige. “I think Grandmother would disown you on the spot.”

“Yeah,” said Peter. “I think the only thing worse would be going to Hufflepuff.”

A group of girls that had been passing us looked in our direction, glaring daggers. Peter grinned, waving at them.

“One of these days someone’s going to hex you,” said Paige.

“Let ‘em try,” said Peter.

I looked away from them and turned to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. There were kids, eleven to seventeen, and all of them were happy. There was magic and it wasn’t as freely accessible as it had been before, but it didn’t have the same _price_. Here, there was the sense that I could go my entire life without seeing the bad stuff.

As much as I missed people from before, I liked the feeling of watching this, of not worrying about things steadily declining, of the status quo making things worse, of the only better option being the _Abyss._

“Are we sitting together?” said Paige. “Because if we are then we better go in quickly. Compartments might be full.”

“Yeah,” I said and I followed, pulling my trolley along to stow my stuff away before getting into the train.

There was magic that would have made it bigger, but they hadn’t, not really. The place was cramped, making it hard to walk through when there were so many students, but there was a fun in it. I spotted three people bumping into each other, apologising and then introducing themselves.

Peter was at the lead, opening doors, peeking and then forging ahead.

I let myself sort of drift, listening to the chatter, to the laughing.

 _Evan would have loved this,_ I thought and there it was. Evan had been…my _familiar._ The connection had been severed, but we’d still had a bond. At the end, when I’d lost everything and _fought_ to regain my relationships, he’d been the only one to really connect to me. My best friend.

“Blake!” I turned, the sound had come from outside. “Blake, _no!”_

I went to the window and saw a boy that struggling to keep an owl calm. The owl was on the smaller side, its feathers looking like it’d fought a cat and _just_ came out of the fight alive, and it was fluttering its wings before it could be handed over to the man taking all the other pets and stowing them.

“Calm down, Blake. You’ll get out, okay?”

The owl wasn’t listening.

“Strange name for an owl,” said Paige.

I got to the window, pushed it open, because, “Evan!”

The boy turned, frowned and then there was recognition. “Blake?” he said and he had the widest smile. I couldn’t help but reflect it.

***

“Can I hug you?” Evan said. “I couldn’t hug you before.”

We’d found a compartment. Paige and Peter were watching Evan, watching me and Rose because they didn’t know who he was and he seemed to know us pretty well.

“Yeah,” I said. I hadn’t stopped smiling. He hugged me, slightly uncomfortable but it was easy to put up with.

“Get in here, Rose,” said Evan. “I missed you too.”

Rose was smiling, but she was reserved as she got into the hug.

 _Then_ it was a little more uncomfortable. Rose and I were technically one person, split in twain, but that part of me that hadn’t liked being touched didn’t react to her the same way it reacted to Evan. I bore through it because it made Evan happy.

“This is _so_ cool,” said Evan. “I mean, this was always cool, and I didn’t understand it and I missed you guys—Wait, Sushi, Alister?”

The smile faded a little. Rose’s smile faded entirely.

“Evan,” said Rose. “We have innocents.”

“Right. Right,” said Evan. He chuckled, hugged me again. He hadn’t warned me this time and I was on my guard, wanting to push him away, but I let it out with a breath. He got close to my ears and said, “I’m a real boy now.”

“Yeah, it’s exciting,” I said, another chuckle, slightly tight. My eyes felt hot, like I might cry I was so happy.

Evan pulled away, still wearing a big smile. “This is going to be the best,” he said. “You guys, magic, a _magic school._ It would have been better if the Sushi was here, but this is still good.”

“Okay,” said Peter. “I’ve had enough. What in Merlin’s soggy underpants is going on?”

“Gross,” Evan muttered.

“We’re pen pals,” I said.

“That’s a _lie,”_ said Peter. “You’re not even trying to lie right! You’re saying things that are _obviously_ not true.”

“Shouting doesn’t get us to tell you anything,” said Rose.

Peter crossed his hands, pouting.

“You’re adorable, Peter,” said Evan. Peter pouted even more.

“Stop rubbing it in,” said Rose.

Evan chuckled.

The train lurched, starting to move forward.

“Onward to Hogwarts!”

And his enthusiasm was infectious.


	4. Chapter 4

**Harry**

_First rule of combat, first rule of_ anything, _make the battleground yours._

It had been one of the first lessons in the Auror Corps and it was a lesson I took to heart. Things had happened to me, finding myself falling within plots and plans, but that had had to stop when I’d become an Auror. _Then_ , I’d been chasing bad people, figuring out malignant magic and trying to take down the perpetrators, to have stuff happen _to_ me would have meant me dead.

Something had happened to me to get to this point. I still didn’t understand all of it, hadn’t figured out the how and the why, but I knew what it was: I’d been transported back in time, just to the left and into another dimension, magic that was supposed to be _theoretical_ at best and yet I could feel its effects.

Almost all of me wanted to find a way back. I’d been starting my life in earnest, clear of the baggage of being the _boy_ who lived, of the baggage of having to face Voldemort, and to be pushed back to the starting line was grating.

But another part realised that this was an opportunity. Even if this wasn’t truly my home, even if these people were just doppelgangers to the people I knew and had grown up with, lived with through good and bad, there was still an opportunity here.

I could make their future better.

This was part and parcel of that.

The Leaky Cauldron was prepared. As inconspicuously as I could, I’d layered charms in places to give me a sense of how people moved outside my room. There were over thirty people in the building, with twenty-five of them having wands and six having objects which were either jinxed or cursed or enchanted.

While wearing another form, I’d asked Tom, the owner of the Leaky Cauldron, to open a hole in the defences of the place, meaning I would be able to disapparate directly from my room—Tom hadn’t asked questions, only agreed, which said something I chose to ignore about this place’s patronage.

There were Anti-Apparition jinxes on this place, that I’d added set so they allowed me to disapparate in a small section of floor; Anti-Port Key jinxes, which had served as the brunt of my work because those things could be _complicated;_ and a Shielding Charm that I’d put to activate between where I sat and the chair just beside the door.

Even so I was still _scared,_ that I might be making a mistake.

One of the charms I’d placed on the hall and my door pinged. The charm at my door told me a person had cast a Detection Charm on it, while the charm on the hall told me that the caster was a man. The door opened except no one stood on the other side of the door, the moment the man stepped in, the Disillusionment Charm slipped from his form.

Albus Dumbledore.

I smiled, because I couldn’t help it. I was scared of him, wasn’t sure that he wasn’t part of the divergence of this dimension and propaganda meant he looked much like he had in my dimension—something that hadn’t made sense when I’d really thought about it. But it was still a fear at the back of my mind.

Headmaster Dumbledore stopped, eyes twinkling in confusion as he looked at me, but nonetheless he came in. He had his wand out and he poked the chair I’d prepared for him, and then he sat.

“Harry?” he said.

“Yes, Headmaster,” I said. “But…it’s complicated.” I swallowed, calming my churning thoughts and remembering that I’d been preparing this for the last few months. I knew what I had to do, knew the fastest way to pass over information and had escape routes in case I’d missed something in my research.

“You know about the theory of alternate dimensions?” I asked. “I think it was called the Decision Hypothesis.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Muggles have a thing they call convergent evolution,” he said. “I think there might be a different term for ideas, but I’m afraid I don’t know it. The Decision Hypothesis is one such idea that’s sprouted both from us, wizards and from Muggles. But it hasn’t been proven, if anything our research into Time shows that there exists one reality and time _bends_ so that events that happened will _always_ happened. An eternal circle.”

I shrugged. “I’m a wrinkle in that,” I said. “I’m from the future, Headmaster. A future whose past is much like this one except _different._ In my dimension such pure-blood families as the Thorburns and the Matthieus don’t exist; and Mr Weasley’s department is small to non-existent because Muggles were generally ignored and it was thought stupid to pay attention to their increasing quality of ‘Muggle magic.’”

“A time traveller,” he said. “This, if it’s true, is incredible.”

“I’m going to reach into my pocket,” I said. Headmaster Dumbledore nodded. I reached in and pulled out a vial, small and filled with a glowing blue substance, caught between being liquid and gas. I tossed it and Dumbledore pointed his wand, stopping the vial before it hit him.

He jabbed his wand thrice and seemed satisfied before he took hold of the vial.

“Memories. _My_ memories. All of them,” I said.

“A cheat sheet,” he said, looking at the vial in his hand. “Better even than prophecy, at least more reliable if you’re willing to think through everything that might have changed.”

I nodded.

“What happened to him?” Dumbledore asked. “The counterpart whose body you wear?”

“I…I think I subsumed him, Headmaster,” I said and I felt a bit of guilt. He was me, true, but he’d also been _him._ It was possible that he could have made different decisions and become someone entirely different, but because of whatever had happened, he’d disappeared. “I…was him since birth, then all at once I remembered the other reality. I didn’t feel like _him,_ but I felt like the Harry from the future.”

“An impression of your mind sent back to your past self,” he said. “Or at least _a_ past self, this one from another dimension.”

I gave him a nod.

“It must be trying, living with this, the guilt that, even unintentionally, you killed your counterpart.”

“I don’t like to think about it, sir,” I said. “But…I kind of want to honour him. One of his last thoughts was imaging himself out of the Dursley, having his own place and rules, doing what he _liked._ I want that.”

Dumbledore frowned. “Harry, if you are indeed from the future, then you understand—”

“That being at the Dursleys was for my own protection,” I said, “that there were magical protections because my mother died for me instead of stepping out of the way. I understand and, even if this body doesn’t have the stamina from before, I think I can take care of myself. I…like my independence, Headmaster.”

Dumbledore sighed. “This is all too much, Harry,” he said. “I need time to think.”

I nodded. “There’s something else,” I said. “I’m going to reach into my pocket.” He nodded and I did again, pulling out a piece of parchment. I threw and it floated through the air, he caught it with magic again, testing it for any curses or jinxes before he was satisfied.

“Voldemort has Horcruxes. Those will be the locations of those Horcruxes and what they are. It would be helpful if you found them all and destroyed them as quickly as possible because, and this is only a theory, I think Voldemort or someone working for him might have travelled to the past with me.”

“How do you know this?” Dumbledore said, his voice grave.

“At this time, in my past, you were supposed to have moved the Philosopher’s Stone because of some incident,” I said. “Voldemort, using Professor Quirrell, was supposed to break into Gringotts. You haven’t moved the stone, I’ve been watching Hagrid and he hasn’t gone to Gringotts. It makes me think whatever reason there was to suspect it might be stolen in the first place wasn’t there.”

“Thin evidence,” he said.

“I know, but my Auror Commander was trained by Alastor Moody,” I said with a shrug.

“Constant vigilance,” said Headmaster. He swallowed. “I think, then, Harry, it might be for the best if you stayed with me at Hogwarts. If you’re not going to be protected at Petunia’s home, then…”

He stopped, I was shaking my head.

“I think you’ll understand why when you see everything within those memories,” I said. I swallowed. “I want to make sure that the Harry I subsumed is _happy_ before you decide whatever you decide.”

_More than anything I need to make sure you’re actually who I think you are, that you’re gonna do something about this._

“I…think, I might have an idea,” said the Headmaster. He let out a short breath. “Farewell, Harry. I hope you stay safe.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, standing. “And could you look out for Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger? If Voldemort really is back, then he might go after them first because they were with me.”

“Consider it done, my boy,” he said.

I nodded, stood and then turned on the spot, leaving the Leaky Cauldron.

***

 _Even when it looks like everything’s set, there’s_ always _room for things to go wrong. Don’t get comfortable. Don’t rely on just one plan. Constant vigilance._

Dumbledore was plan A, hoping that things would go well and he would be the one to deal with most of the fighting. My job was preparing other plans if and when needed.

I had three other forms at the ready and I was outside Hermione’s place wearing one of them. I wasn’t disillusioned because I was spotty with the spell. I’d spent most of my career depending on my cloak for protection and it was something that had made me lazy, something I was regretting here and now, but with magic there were always workarounds.

It was late morning and from my spying I knew she and her parents would be out for the day, meeting a kid by the name of Sylvester, from what I’d heard he would be going to Hogwarts this year and I didn’t know him, which meant he was a person of interest. I’d already made the mental note to look into him later.

It wasn’t too long before they did, Mr and Mrs Granger with little Hermione in tow. The moment they were gone I got closer. My wand fell into my waiting hand after a flick of the wrist. A stab, swish, slash, circular motion and then a set of other more intricate wand motions and I had a good mental map of all the spells that’d been cast around the property.

Hermione was reasonably protected, at least her home was, and if Dumbledore had put that much effort into this, then he’d have put more effort into protecting her person.

Satisfied, I turned on the spot and appeared at the edge of Little Hangleton, the ancestral home of the Riddle family. I let out a breath and started walking, taking another gulp of Polyjuice Potion as I went. I’d been dithering since arriving about coming here, getting the bones of Voldemort’s father, but if indeed he’d travelled to the past just as I had, I couldn’t let the fear keep me away.

I’d given Dumbledore my full selection of memories almost a week ago, gave him a little time to think things over before he started setting up his own plans. But I needed to make sure that he _was_ working, that he was setting things up to take out as much of Voldemort as we possibly could.

I started walking, cloaked in the form of a man twenty years older than me, who had a bad leg that was _grating_ because it meant I had to focus how I was walking. But I’d dealt with pain, I could push it off, focus on what needed to be done.

Closer now, and I could see the Riddle Manor, but it wasn’t my first target. I wanted to get there, but first I had to check on one of the Horcruxes. First the Gaunt shack. It was empty and dusty, looking like the place hadn’t been touched in a few years. Even so, I stabbed the air, looking for any spells or curses that might be around the place.

There were none that I could tell and I went in, repeating the procedure to detect any spells in the house. When there were none, only magic on a patch of floor, I went to the loose floorboard, popped it up with a spell and I was supremely disappointed to see that Dumbledore hadn’t yet had time to deal with the ring.

I levitated it, summoning a stray piece of wood and transfiguring…it…into…the…ring.

I stabbed the ring and the spell over it unravelled, at once everything shifted. Spells I’d put on my clothes activated as delayed spells flared to life. All of this had been a trap and I was caught in the middle of it. Very likely the ring had been set to unfold with spells when the transfiguration was unravelled, a rare bit of magic, but one that I wouldn’t put past someone of Voldemort’s skill.

I turned and felt a wall where the tube should have been; I rubbed a ring on my finger, muttering go under my breath and hissed as the ring _burned._ A flick of the wand and the ring shot off a second before it burst into blue flames. I started for the door, pointed and a flash of red light flew out, hitting the door and breaking it apart with a large crash. I walked outside and stopped because there were already half a dozen people waiting all of them with wands pointed in my direction, leading the charge was Albus Dumbledore.

I let out a breath.

“Thank Merlin,” I muttered, because it might have been Voldemort and I didn’t think I could fight him and escape. I’d _thought_ I had prepared for everything, that I was being safe, but it wasn’t enough. Even remembering the lessons and maybe I hadn’t taken them to heart yet.

Something to work on at least.

“It’s me, Headmaster,” I said. “I’m going to move my wand.”

“No,” said Dumbledore. “We’ll wait for the Polyjuice Potion to wear off. You very well might deliver a Killing Curse and that might be putting my people in danger.”

“It’s fresh and could last a few hours. I could cast the Patronus Charm,” I said. “That can’t be faked and you already know mine.”

“Don’t trust him, Dumbledore,” said Mad-Eye Moody. “This could all be some trick.”

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment before he said, “A little bit of faith, Alastor. Please do,” he said to me.

“Expecto Patronum,” I said and a stag flew out.

Dumbledore smiled.

“It’s him?” said Mad-Eye. “The boy?”

“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “You could have been hurt coming here, Harry.”

“I thought I was safe, that I had countermeasures,” I said. “I think I might have forgotten that I usually work with a team.”

“I can see how that would be better,” he said. “Working as part of a team is often better than working alone. Even for a great mind such as yours.”

“Not great,” I said with a shake of the head.

“You give yourself too little credit, Harry,” he said and he sighed. “We should retire to my office. You have the Trace on you and more inquisitive minds in the Ministry might come to check the spell activity surrounding you.”

I nodded. “But first Headmaster, if you may show me _your_ patronus.”

“Of course,” he said and a wispy blue phoenix left his wand.

A tension I hadn’t realised I had eased.

***

“I know,” said Dumbledore.

I nodded. “I guessed you’d figure it out,” I said with a shrug.

“Harry… _forgive_ me,” he said. A brow rose. “I’ve put too much of a burden on you, used your very nature against you.”

“I _have_ to die, Headmaster,” I said. “So long as I’m alive, Voldemort can’t be defeated.”

Dumbledore shook his head. “There is _always_ another way,” he said. “I might have been lost before. Spent so much time fighting a war that I overlooked the toll it took on you, and for that I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, Harry, it isn’t.” He sighed and he seemed so much older. “You were and still _are_ a child. You deserve to live and love, deserve to _be_ loved. I was too focused on your life and how it related to Voldemort. I was too focused on seeing the good that might exist in Petunia that I didn’t think of the effect her and her husband’s treatment of you might have on your growth. I…missed so much, while thinking I was doing it all for the best.”

I didn’t say anything, because a part of me was angry, thinking of all the things that could have been done differently. But if things had been done differently then I wouldn’t have the life I’d had, wouldn’t have made the friends I’d had.

All of it together was a ball of confusion, things I felt but couldn’t make sense of. I just let it fester, not really trying _not_ to feel it, but not working through it either.

“Voldemort has to die,” I said instead, remembering all the people who’d died, all the people I could save by just putting my life on the line right now. “For that to happen, I have to die, and if he’s come back like me, then it won’t happen like before. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it out alive.”

“You’re not going to die, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “You’re going to live and you’re going to be happy, however you want that happiness.”

“I was always happy at Hogwarts,” I said with a shrug.

“And Hogwarts can once again be your home.” His eyes twinkled at me. “How you like to be a teacher, Harry? I’ve been struggling to fill the spot of Defence Against the Dark Arts. I’d thought Professor Quirrell might take the position after his sabbatical, but it seems he won’t be returning. It would give you a sense of freedom while you’re still being protected at Hogwarts. Sirius will be freed in a matter of course since matters have been resolved with Peter Pettigrew, and you’ll be able to visit him as a member of staff whenever you have the free time.”

“I never even finished my studies,” I said. “Won’t…I don’t understand this.”

“I’ve never seen you happier than when you were leading Dumbledore’s Army,” he said. “You had a sense of purpose then, one not so reliant on putting yourself in danger. It’s…when I was watching your memories, I wondered why you didn’t take up the position. But then I realised that this was another fault of mine. Since you were eleven I couldn’t keep you from danger, so much so it must’ve gotten to the point that your life only felt like it had purpose when putting your life was on the line.”

Hearing it and it sounded pathetic, like I was just some adrenaline junkie, or may a glory hound like Rita Skeeter had said so long ago.

“I’m hoping _this,_ something of a different pace, might help you find yourself.”

“What about everything else? If the Boy-Who-Lived doesn’t come to Hogwarts…?”

“I’ll think of something,” he said. “Perhaps leading people to believe that you’re under my personal tutelage? It shouldn’t be too out of the ordinary since some still fear Tom’s return. All of this, of course, is contingent on you wanting it. If you wanted to travel the world, if that would make you happier, then that is what you should do.”

“No,” I said. “I should stick close, in case I’m needed.”

Dumbledore frowned but didn’t say anything.

I nodded “I’ll do it,” I said with a shrug. “It should be an experience.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Taylor**

_This could be a master power—_

I took a deep breath and _stopped._ I didn’t know what this was and honestly, I didn’t care. It all seemed _tenuous,_ like thinking about it too much might break whatever spell I was under, like the universe would figure out that it had done something wrong and everything would go to what it’d once been.

I _really_ didn’t want that.

“Morning, hun,” Dad said. He wore broad smile as he gave Mom a peck on the cheek. Mom smiled in return, still humming a tune from a wizarding song we’d heard yesterday and she’d loved. Most of her attention was on a plate of pancakes she was busy with, making sure the batter didn’t stick to the pan.

Reminders of the old country.

“Tay-Tay,” he said, mussing my hair.

“Morning, Daddy-o,” I said and Dad’s expression scrunched, giving an exaggerated shiver.

“That was _awful,”_ he said.

“Yeah, well…ditto,” I said. “You’re the one who started this _hip_ business.”

“Do people even still use that word?” Mom said from the stove. “I thought we’d left that behind.”

“Just because words aren’t used as much, doesn’t mean they lose their meaning,” I said.

Mom snorted. “Oh, to be naive,” she said. “How I wish it so upon myself. I think ‘decimate’ would like a word.”

“Um…that’s…to destroy a tenth of, right?”

Mom turned toward me, giving me a large smile. My heart started beating faster, blushing even though it didn’t make any sense. It struck me how much of Mom I’d forgotten, that her ‘I’m proud of you’ expression always seemed to have an impact.

_This could be them giving you what you want—_

“Yes,” she said. “I’m surprised you know that.” She moved from the stove to the table, plating the newly made pancake. She turned off the stove, put the pancake on the stack and sat. While she’d worked, Dad had poured all of us some orange juice, moving pancakes from the stack to our plates and dolloping out syrup. “Thanks,” Mom said.

“Must have read it somewhere,” I said with a shrug. “Anyway, that’s words losing meaning because of _how_ they’re being used. Decimate from meaning destroying a tenth to meaning destroy completely. If words aren’t used, then they stay the same.”

Mom laughed. “I wish my students were like you,” she said and I blushed again, looking down and eating my pancakes.

“You’re going to school tomorrow,” said Dad, a little after the silence had settled, only sound from the radio drifting in. “Excited?”

I shrugged. “I know that I don’t know anything about magic,” I said. “But wish I could skip a few grades, deal with older kids than the younger ones.”

“It’s a boarding school,” said Mom. “You don’t have to make friends with people in your year.”

“But it’ll be easier,” I said. “That electricity thing, path of least resistance.”

“You seemed to like hanging out with Hermione,” said Dad.

“Hermione’s…a nerd—”

 _“Taylor,”_ said Mom.

I frowned, then, “Oh, I forgot that that isn’t a complement yet.”

“Yet?” said Dad.

I shrugged. “I mean, makes sense. Sport’s all well and good, but who actually makes that work? I think nerd is a compliment.”

Mom frowned. “You’re treating the world as it _should_ be,” said Mom. “Remember what we worked on.”

“Right,” I said. Things here were different than they’d been on Earth Bet, things that had been accepted there weren’t yet normalised here. For the longest time I’d had trouble grasping that, treating the world as it should be and Mom had told me that this wasn’t actually helping anyone, instead it was a disservice because it made me not take the shittiness that existed now seriously.

“Anyway, she’s…smart, cares about books,” I said. “When we talk, she’s telling me about something she read that I find interesting, telling me about the time she snuck into her parents’ room, took her wand and broke the law.”

“You know, you don’t have to smile like that,” said Dad after a sip of his juice.

“Am I?” I said. Dad scowled, though he was wearing his own smile.

We’d broken the law too. We’d chosen a simple spell, the Levitation Charm, and after reading through the theory behind it, working on my conductor swishes and then repeating the word with Mom’s keen ear, and it had _worked._

“Incorrigible,” said Dad. He glanced at his watch, then started eating faster. “Gonna be late,” he said through a mouthful.

Mom was smiling as she looked at him and I was doing the same. He didn’t remember Earth Bet, neither did Mom, but they were happy and that was all I really cared about.

Dad finished off his breakfast, kissed Mom and then me on the forehead, before he said goodbye and left for work. Mom started cleaning up while I went to my Vista-spaced suitcase and starting to pull out my textbooks.

Mom was smiling as I looked up.

I smiled too.

 _Incorrigible,_ the both of us.

I carted my textbooks to my backpack, putting it on while Mom got on her own bag, filled with wizard literature. We went downstairs, taking a light walk before getting into a cab that took us to the Leaky Cauldron.

“Hello, Tom,” Mom said with a smile.

Tom gave a largely toothless smile. “Hello again, Mrs Hebert.”

“Annette, _please,”_ she said. “It’s the only way I’ll feel comfortable calling you Tom after finding out how old you are.”

Tom chuckled. “Annette, then,” he said, “and little Taylor. How are the both of you today?”

“I’m good,” I said. I whispered conspiratorially. “Going to be breaking the law again.”

Tom laughed. “I should teach you a spell to give those fussy-bodies at Hogwarts the good one-two,” he said. He looked at Mom. “The regular room?”

“Yes, please,” she said, reaching at her side and pulling out three Knuts.

Mom _really_ loved magic and I had the sense she was living vicariously through me because she hadn’t said anything when I’d mentioned what I’d read about the Trace. Apparently, there was a spell that existed over Britain that meant the magic of every child could be tracked. Every spell cast near them pinged off a dot on a map, also listing the spell cast around said child.

Because wizards and witches regularly used magic around their children, it didn’t matter for most people who’d been born into magical families that the Trace existed. The Ministry of Magic, the government of magical Britain, often ignored magic coming from wizarding homes, and in some cases restricting the ability to see the spells that were cast around certain homes—I’d read a bit about this and the main argument was that the Trace was a privacy issue, but more than one person called it discrimination because exclusions mostly applied to pure-blood families.

Any magic I used at home could be tracked through the Trace, but the moment we were in the Leaky Cauldron, an inn which proudly held a certificate that exempted them from being Traced, we were perfectly safe.

We went up a rickety staircase, three floors up—though the building was a single floor from the outside—and then down a long, thin hallway filled with doors of various sizes, and which seemed to be the size of a street. We reached the last door and it opened into a small room where everything looked _old,_ albeit well kept. There was one window and it opened to the streets of London.

“Which one will you be practising today?” Mom asked.

I’d already learnt the Levitation Spell, the Sparks Spell, the Lighting and Extinguishing Charms, and a spell to change the colour of my nails—Mom had picked that one from a beauty magazine and after running it through Tom, I’d tested it out and it’d worked.

“Repairing Charm,” I said. “Hermione’s already figured it out.”

“That would mean breaking something and I don’t know how expensive all of this stuff is,” said Mom. “Do you have your spare glasses? We could ask Hermione to fix them if you can’t do it.”

“I’ll be able to do it,” I said, already digging into my bag and pulling them out.

“I’ll be reading in the corner,” she said, still smiling. “Have fun.”

“You too,” I said. She went to a little desk with a clock on it. She touched the long hour hand, ran it in a full revolution before she stopped. The clock was enchanted with a spell that cast a field of _quiet,_ it meant I wouldn’t disturb her while she read.

All of this was _so_ crazy.

It felt…like _luck,_ everything I’d ever wanted given to me: I’d wanted my Mom and I had her; I’d wanted my Dad happy and he was; and I remembered wanting other people’s powers and now I had or could emulate them through magic.

_All of it is too good. There has to be a catch._

“Or maybe there isn’t,” I muttered under my breath. I pushed the thought aside and focused on this, being the best witch I could be. I broke my glasses in half, pulled out my wand from my backpack—Tom had told me that my wand should _always_ be in easy access, but pockets were smaller than the slits that were made in robes and I wasn’t ready to wear those yet—and focused on the spell.

It was all about abstractions and belief, letting no doubt fill my head. The difference whether a spell was successfully cast or not, could depend on whether the person casting it could believe that they would succeed. I was used to crazy stuff happening. I’d lived in Earth Bet, a world with parahumans. I’d _been_ a parahuman, able to control bugs with my mind, sense and see through them, control so many that it felt _limitless._ It was easy for me to believe that I could do _this_ in comparison.

I pointed my wand, remembering Tom’s lessons on holding a wand. There could be as many techniques on holding a wand as techniques for musical conductors—which meant I’d spent _so_ much money buying cassette tapes of orchestral performances and watching conductors at work to figure out the style I wanted.

Mom and I had finally agreed on a strong grip that wasn’t the fencing approach I saw in most pictures of wizards holding wands, the wand within my fingers but meaning there was a little flick to it. A large part of me thought that this was impractical, especially if I ever got in a fight. The hold was too loose and a good flick might mean losing my wand, but I wasn’t planning to get in any such things.

All of this was too good and I didn’t want to mess it up.

I glanced at the motion as outline by my textbook and started practising wand motions.

Three hours in and I’d moved from wand movement to pronunciation.

Mom and I took a break, going out into Diagon Alley and having a bite to eat before checking out some of the wizard fashion.

“How would you feel about moving here?” she said. “Into this world?”

“Um…” I shrugged. “Don’t really care. Don’t have any friends since we moved here from the old country.”

“But that’s the only life you’ve ever known,” she said, the glimmer of a smile in her eyes. “Won’t you feel bad if you just leave it behind?”

“Is there something going on?” I asked.

“Just…I was contacted by your Headmaster,” she said. “There’s something in the works, not now but in the future, about a school for non-magical children coming from magical families.”

Squibs. I’d read about that they existed but not much else. I didn’t think they were common.

“The usual SOP is for families that have Squib children send them to a boarding school outside the magical world,” she said, “which must be a culture shock because all they’re used to will have been magic. The new school will be a bridge between two worlds. Magical and mundane education. Headmaster Dumbledore wanted me to join the project.”

“You want to take it?” I asked.

“Only if it doesn’t mess things up for you,” she said.

“I’m already going to be spending a year with wizards and witches,” I said with a shrug. “What matters is you and Dad being happy.”

Mom sighed. “Haven’t told him yet, to be honest,” he said. “Your father’s intimidated by all of this.”

“Well…Dad _did_ live in a racist town,” I said. It wasn’t Brockton Bay, but it seems like the abstracts of the experiences of Brockton Bay had been there. There’d been a large sentiment of racism in Dad’s hometown, which was why moving from the States to England had been so easy for him. He’d just wanted to get away and when Mom had been interested in getting a job here, he hadn’t minded. “I don’t think he wants that, especially since _we’ll_ be the ones that are hated.”

Mom looked at me. “It’s scary how smart you are sometimes,” she said. “You’ve noticed that, huh?”

“Hermione told me about the war, what it was over,” I said.

“But did Hermione notice the subtext?” I shook my head. Hermione knew the war was about blood purity, but she knew that as a fact, she didn’t really know what that _meant._ “You’re smart,” said Mom. “Which can be both a blessing and a curse.”

“Can this not be about me making friend again? I don’t like it when you keep mentioning it.”

“Okay,” she said, hands raised in surrender. “You’re sure you don’t mind? About me possibly taking the job?”

I shook my head. “As long as I’m with you and Dad. I’m okay.”

“You’re going to be leaving us for a whole year,” she said.

“I’ll write _every_ day,” I said.

Mom smiled. “Wonder what the neighbours will think when an owl keeps coming to roost,” she said. “I’ll have to buy more snacks.”

“Haven’t noticed the Daily Prophet owls.”

“True,” Mom said. “How would you like me to buy you an owl?”

“I’d prefer a Crup,” I said.

“I’d need a licence for that,” said Mom. “And they’d just attack me and your Dad.”

I sighed. “Really would have loved one,” I said. I shook my head. “I’m okay without a pet, thanks. There are supposed to be a lot of owls in Hogwarts. I can use one of those.”

“If that’s what you’d like,” she said. “Let’s get back.”

I nodded.

***

“Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters,” said Dad. “This must be a mistake.”

“I know where it is,” said Hermione. “I read it in a book.”

“How much do you read?” said Dean. “Feels like every second word out of your mouth is about a book you read.”

Hermione blushed. “Reading’s the only way you can learn anything,” she said.

“Exactly right, Hermione,” Mom said. “It’s something to be proud of.”

Dean stuck out his tongue. “Thanks, but no thanks. Where is it anyway?”

“Follow me,” said Hermione and she pushed her trolley filled with luggage to platforms nine and ten. “Mum. Dad, stay close, okay?”

Her parents stuck close and Hermione started at a run, going straight for a wall. I could see her parent slow, hesitate, but Hermione didn’t. She went for the wall and simply slid through.

Dean let out a chuckle, people looking at us because he had an owl. It was strange to see them notice _that,_ but entirely miss that Hermione and her parents had just run through a wall. I shrugged and followed, Mom and Dad keeping close as we ran for the wall. On passing the barrier it opened to another landing, a red train waiting and wizard kids filling the place, many of them already in the train, wishing their parents goodbye.

I caught Hermione and her parents, with Hermione talking to Sylvester, the boy standing beside a woman who dressed in a beautiful mix of Muggle and wizard clothing. She was smiling as she talked to Hermione’s parents.

Sylvester spotted me, grinned then waved.

He was drunk again, well not really drunk, but _different._ The first time I’d seen him he’d been depressed, picking fights from how hurt he’d been and I’d understood that, but then, between one day and another he’d seemingly become a different person. One who’d tracked me down, who’d possibly orchestrated things by tripping people and who seemed to look at me with a _hungry_ expression.

It rubbed me the wrong way.

“Hello, Sylvester,” said Mom, there was a smile in her voice. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been busy,” he said. “I sort of got adopted. This is Ms Fray, my guardian.”

“Hello,” said Ms Fray, giving Mom a gentle smile. “It’s a pleasure to talk to you. Sylvester’s mentioned you in passing.”

“Likewise,” said Mom, while Dad only stood, nodding and watching as Mom took the lead. “You’re a witch too?”

Ms Fray nodded. “Caught this one in Diagon Alley alone,” she said. “He reminded me a lot of myself at his age.”

“Ms Fray was an orphan too,” Sylvester added. Ms Fray gave him a look, brow tilted up, but she rolled with it.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone to look after you, Sylvester,” said Mrs Granger. “You look better now that you have her.”

There were no scrapes on his fists, no split lip that was still healing, no bruising around the eyes, and he was smiling more. He really _did_ look better, happier.

Was it possible that I’d just mistaken a boy being happy to be adopted and turned it into something insidious? There was still the thing with people tripping, but I wasn’t sure that that was magic. Maybe a part of me was still set on edge because of my life in Earth Bet? Where things had just been _waiting_ to go worse. Maybe I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He’d still found out where I lived, though, and with how far away he lived from our apartment, that wouldn’t happen naturally.

He still rubbed me the wrong way, because he still had that hungry expression when I looked at him at times.

Maybe it was because he didn’t have friends?

I made a mental note to keep an eye out on him.

“…to policy,” Ms Fray was saying. “It was something I noticed on coming to this world how segregated it is, and how this causes stagnation. So I run an organisation that’s trying to change that.”

She stopped because Dean and his mother had joined us, both momentarily struck by the platform.

“Hey, Sy!” said Dean, rushing forward. Sylvester waved. “This is _awesome_ isn’t it?”

“Just the best,” said Sylvester. “Wanna go exploring? Grown-ups are talking about boring grown up stuff.”

“Yeah!” said Dean. “Can I leave Mum? You can…Um…whatever?”

“Bye,” said Dean’s Mom. She gave him a hug. “Write when you get there?”

“I will!” he said, both of them ran off.

 _“Boys,”_ said Hermione. “They even left their trunks.”

“I’ll take care of it,” said Ms Fray. She took out her wand, pointed and waved it away. All our suitcases lifted off, hovering to the back where the luggage was stored.

“Let’s go find a compartment,” said Hermione. “With how many people there are, they might fill up and we won’t be able to sit together.”

“Okay,” I said. “Hugs, please.”

“Aren’t you too old for hugs?” said Dad.

“Never.”

My parents hugged me, Mom’s eyes red and Dad’s eyes puffy as they pulled away. I waved goodbye and walked away from them, leaving them talking to Ms Fray.

Most of the compartments were already full, but we managed to find an empty one near the back.

“Finally got the Repairing Charm,” I said.

“Me too,” said Hermione, a bright smile on her. “I also figured out why my Levitation Charm didn’t work. It’s Levi-o-sa not Levio-sah.”

“Can’t wait ‘til we reach the point where we just skip over word spells,” I said. “I’ve never been more aware of my tongue than now.”

“It’s supposed to be _very_ hard to do,” she said. “But Hogwarts is the best magical school in the world so we should have it down by the time we’re done with our Hogwarts education.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Wonder where they boys are,” she said, peering out the window. “We’re leaving soon.”

It wasn’t too long after that door opened and green eyes peeked instead. Sylvester grinned. “Found them,” he shouted back. Dean followed and closed the door. Dean immediately pulled out his wand.

“I can _finally_ practise magic now,” he said.

“Oh, check this out,” said Sylvester. He pointed his wand, waved it and the window. There was a loud crack-bang and as it ended, the window changed from see-through to an ugly orange.

“That was _awesome,_ ” said Dean, coming up and touching the window.

“No,” said Sylvester. “Wait.” He did the spell again and there was a crack, again and there was a softer snap, then a last time before the window changed colour without a sound. He was grinning as he finished.

“Teach it to me?” said Dean.

“Yeah, sure,” he said and I watched as he taught Dean the spell, Hermione getting annoyed when Sylvester butchered the theory and made it harder for Dean to learn the spell. Ten minutes and she couldn’t help but pitch in.

Through most of it, I was quiet, watching Sylvester. At some point, the smile had changed from _hungry_ to genuine.

He reminded me a little of Rachel, not in how they acted, but in maybe how they were built. I could see a situation where his brain was wired differently and he didn’t have a sense of personal space while wanting to make friends.

A part of me liked to think I’d helped Rachel. Maybe I could help him too? Stop him from doing anything stupid?

Either way he was worth watching, because even if I still hadn’t made up my opinion on Dean, I liked Hermione and Sylvester seemed to like her too.

The train lurched and we started on our way to Hogwarts.


	6. Chapter 6

**Harry**

“Am I going to do a good job?” I said, biscuit crumbs spilling onto my robes. Professor McGonagall gave me a look, shaking her head. I stopped, taking a sip of tea. I was in her office and it was surprising to see how it lost its ability to intimidate me now that I wasn’t a student.

“I mean, I’ve done this before, a little. People sort of always liked seeing me doing the Disarming Charm, but—”

“You’ll be alright _,_ Potter,” said Professor McGonagall. She was smiling, _had_ been smiling since the week started. It seemed Dumbledore wasn’t as tight-lipped about information as he’d been in my dimension, though this of course meant he’d told a smallpool of people about me having travelled from the future.

At Hogwarts it was only Headmaster Dumbledore and Professors McGonagall and Snape who knew about me.

“You wouldn’t be the first Defence Professor who wasn’t classically trained to teach,” she said.

“The curse.”

She nodded. “It’s even befuddled Dumbledore how _he_ cast it,” she said. “But since we know it exists, it’s meant that the Board of Governors has extended a little slack in who’s appointed to the position.”

“That’s all well and good for _me,”_ I said. “But what about my students?”

Professor McGonagall’s smile became brighter. “You at least have the right attitude,” she said. “Eager to help _them_ above all else.”

“Sorry, Professor, but attitude isn’t going to help me teach.”

She chuckled. “It _is_ going to keep you sane,” she said. “Teaching is _trying,_ more especially since most of those we teach don’t want to learn.”

I was smiling, thinking about me and Ron. We’d wanted to know the stuff, Merlin we did, but we hadn’t wanted to put in the effort. It had been a shock to us when we’d been training to be Aurors, having to study more than we had at Hogwarts and everything made worse because Hermione hadn’t been there to help us.

“Yeah, I get it,” I said. “I remember the most fun I’ve had in my class was when there was a practical element to it.”

Lupin. The fake Mad Eye. Even Snape had been a good Defence teacher, even though I hadn’t appreciated it at the time.

“Well, _there,_ ” said Professor McGonagall. “You have a direction and you have the syllabus as a guide.”

“Okay,” I said, smiling. “Thank you, Professor.”

“I’m glad to be of assistance, Mr Potter,” she said. “Have a good day.”

I still had two weeks before the school year started and I was _brimming_ with ideas about lessons plans, things that I’d wanted to learn and tips I thought would be better imparted when I was young.

First though, I’d need magical creatures and a _lot_ of them and thankfully the Forbidden Forest was a good place to get an assortment of the little beasts.

Between that and looking over lesson plans, the week flew by, with the lesson plans taking up most of my time. I had to go to Professor part way through because I noticed a lot of spells that were taught in Charms class that I also had to teach in Defence. It was better to talk to him to see the best approach to take.

“Wand holding?” I said, sitting in his office, a siren song playing over the record-player, a sharp wordless song that seemed to fill me with longing.

“Yes, yes, dear boy,” he said, excited both in how he talked and how he moved. I was sitting on a chair, stacks of paper on a table in front of me, while he stood in front of a short table, a book in front of him with his wand running in smooth patterns, a paper beside the book was filling with words after every complete spell.

“It was brought to my attention how something as _ordinary_ as wand holding could be quite the task for someone untrained, and especially when we expect them to weave something as intricate as wand motions. I’ll have to devote the first week to that, but I’ve found the Lumos Spell to be _very_ good on that front. Simple wand motion, easy to say.”

“Huh,” I said and stopped as there was a flash, the book Professor Flitwick had been working on bursting into orange flame. Professor Flitwick swept his wand and the fire vanished, the torn book snapping back into its original condition. He tsked, a bit of frustration showing. “What is that? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“A bit of experimental magic from the Charms Club,” he said. “The Weasley twins made this along with some other students. At a touch, it imprints images into the person touching it. It’s unstable, though, it’s knocked out anyone whose touched it. I’m trying to figure out why.” He tsked. “Should probably have done this sooner and I might not have burnt the book.”

“The Weasley twins are part of Charms Club?” I said, not hiding my surprise.

“Mischievous boys, yes,” he said, “but smart as a whip. I’m hoping to _hone_ that intellect.” I hummed. “You’ll have to be on the lookout for them. They’ll give you trouble.”

“Yeah. Yes,” I said. “I’m fully prepared. Anyway, I wanted to get a sense of your syllabus. Which spells you’ll teach that overlap with my own work and I’m thinking I’ll add onto what you’re working on.”

“A more practical teaching where I’ll focus on the theoretical?” he said and nodded. “I like it, it might mean less spells accidentally hitting me.” He sounded slightly resigned as he said that.

“…I forgot that that happens,” I said.

“A hazard of the trade, I’m afraid,” he muttered. He pointed his wand and a scroll swept out of a cabin, almost hitting me. I noticed Professor Flitwick nodding when I caught it. “Last guy wasn’t suited for the job. Too much theoretical knowledge, not enough _practical_ experience. It was the entire reason Quirinus thought about taking a sabbatical.” Flitwick sighed. “Poor boy,” he muttered and he turned to the book, frowning. “Well, I can’t do any more with this.”

“Thank you, Professor,” I said. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“Yes, yes,” he said, “and welcome to Hogwarts. If I hadn’t already said.”

“Thanks again.”

Headmaster Dumbledore was waiting for me at my office as I arrived, looking at a sinuous creature as large as a pig, with brown, slimy skin and eyes as big as tennis balls; it had six legs, all of them ending in sharp claws, webbing between eleven digits. The thing was swimming in an expanded swimming tank that stretched through one side of the office, disappearing into a wall and continuing to the class beyond.

“If I remember correctly,” the Headmaster said, “this would be a Dugbog.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It was terrorising some Mandrake farmers in Wales. Must have escaped before it could be sold.”

“I’m curious how you happened upon it,” he said.

“Dung.”

“Ah, Mundungus. Quite the troublemaker, that one, but he has his uses,” said Dumbledore.

“Forgive me being rude, Headmaster, but what’s this about?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “To business.” He reached into his robes and pulled out a box, the thing floating through the air as he handed it over. I caught and opened it. Inside were four objects: The Resurrection Stone, inlaid into a ring; Ravenclaw’s Diadem; Slytherin’s Locket; and Hufflepuff’s Cup.

“This is almost all of them,” I said, frowning.

“So you see it too, then?” Dumbledore said. “How all of this doesn’t make sense?”

“You’ve verified them?” I said, then something else occurred to me. “Headmaster, did you break into Gringotts?”

Dumbledore smiled, looking a little abashed. “Tom did so and would have done so had there not been outside factors,” he said. “And you and your friends were able to do the same from your memories. I thought it possible that I might be able to achieve the same feat and indeed I could.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle lightly.

“But that’s beside the point, Harry,” he said. “They’ve been verified and are indeed the real Horcruxes, at least those I could get. It doesn’t make any sense that Tom wouldn’t have thought to at least retrieve some of them.”

“So I might be wrong?” I said. “And he wasn’t sent back in time.”

“Or there’s something else going on,” he said. “Perhaps some plan that we might be missing?”

I frowned, swallowing, trying to get a sense of how Voldemort thought. It didn’t make sense that he wouldn’t go his Horcruxes the first opportunity he got, especially when they were tied to his self-importance.

But maybe he didn’t know that I was back and was instead working to other ends? Even so, it was the safest bet to make sure they were safe. Why wouldn’t he do that? If only to hedge his bets?

“Voldemort doesn’t trust anyone,” I said, realisation hitting. “Right now, he has no choice but to extend that trust to Quirrell if he’s possessing him, so maybe it wasn’t worth the risk?”

“Perhaps,” said Dumbledore. “Or perhaps he still doesn’t have a body yet? We were lucky enough to retrieve his father’s bone, and they were truly his bones, we’ve even gone to the effort of finding his mother’s bones, but those are harder to find. It may be that he hasn’t yet had time to build himself a body and is biding his time until he can personally act?”

“Maybe,” I said with a shrug. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“I’d thought you’d like to know,” he said. “I know the damage wrought by keeping you in the dark, and I’m hoping I won’t make the same mistake again.”

“Oh. Right.” I closed the box, handing it over. I couldn’t do wandless magic, so the floating trick was beyond me. “Thanks, Headmaster, but I trust your judgement.”

“You’re too kind, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “There’s something else though, I was hoping we’d do.”

“Yeah?”

“Would you accompany me into the Chamber of Secrets,” he said. “I can get in and out myself. I’ve heard you say the words and I think I can reasonably mimic them, but you’ll be talking to the basilisk. Newt has said he might have a suitcase that the beast might call its home and he has more than enough experience dealing with dangerous creatures that I trust his expertise.”

“Okay,” I said. “I hadn’t even thought about it if I’m being honest.”

“Not that I blame you, Harry. It seems your time at Hogwarts had more than one noteworthy event, that it might be easy to forget some of them.”

“I guess,” I said. “Shall we?”

“Of course,” he said.

The memories were blurry, but I remembered how big a deal it’d been back then, going to the Chamber. Ginny had been in danger and we’d thought Lockhart might be able to help us. Of course he hadn’t, instead he’d messed things up by Obliviating himself. Now, it was just another Tuesday evening as we went into the girl’s toilets and opened the sink with a command.

Our wands were out as we neared the Chamber door, Dumbledore carrying the Sword of Gryffindor in the other.

“You’re familiar with the Revealment Charm?” he said.

I nodded and pointed at my glasses, at a tap they changed colour, going black so I wouldn’t be able to see ahead of me, the frame started to shift, forming sides that cut my peripheral vision. The last thing I saw was Dumbledore conjuring a blindfold that tied itself around his eyes.

Another quick motion and the dimensions of the world around us were clear in my mind, with only the inner Chamber still invisible. The dimensions appeared as I opened the Chamber doors. We got in, going to the giant statue at the end of the Chamber and at another command, it opened, its dimensions revealed by the spell I still had going.

“It’s gone,” I said, unneeded when it was obvious to both of us.

Dumbledore let out a sigh. “I’ll have to increase the protections around the castle if Tom was able to get in without my notice,” he said.

“He’ll make into a Horcrux,” I said. Dumbledore turned in my direction. “I think he made Nagini after he was supposed to be dead. It makes more sense to do this, a creature as powerful as a basilisk…”

Dumbledore hummed. “I’ll have to alert everyone in the Order,” he said. “Prepare them in the case Tom starts making contact with his old allies.”

“He might come to Hogwarts,” I said. “Tom has always had a fondness for Hogwarts.”

“Yes,” said Dumbledore and there was a sigh in his voice. “He has.”

***

_No better place to hide than in the form of a child._

Everything had been prepared, every magical creature I could rightly fit into my class was there and Professor Flitwick had helped me with the enchantments to make sure the habitats were as safe as could possibly be. I had my schedule, made a little small talk with the other faculty to get my story straight—Professor Snape had been avoiding me from the looks of it, but I didn’t mind. He was…one of the bravest men I knew, but thinking him brave and being able to put up with him after the years of abuses he’d thrown my way were completely different things. Better if we both kept our distance until we absolutely had to.

It was with this in mind that on the night of September first, with the Great Hall filling with students from second year to seventh, I sat on the other side of Hagrid’s great form, hiding me from Professor Snape.

“Excitin’ isn’ it?” Hagrid said with a great big smile. “When the school year starts and students fill the halls?”

“Yeah,” I said smiling. “Intimidating too.” I was looking at the Weasley twins as I said that. I’d caught Fred looking at me and then grin, before sharing words with George.

“You’ll be fine,” Hagrid said and slapped me on the back hard enough that I pitched forward. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I said.

“Just about time for the first years to get Sorted,” he said and that was just about the time that the doors opened. Silence descended and I watched the intimidated little faces of eleven-year olds as they got close.

There was Ron and he stuck close to Seamus, both not talking as they were watched by every other student. I wouldn’t be his friend in this dimension, which was a mixed bag. I wanted to, out of wanting my counterpart to experience what I’d experienced, making friends. But it felt like I was lessening the relationship I had with _my_ Ron, _my_ Hermione, when I could just swap them out with people who looked like them.

At the thought of her, my eyes drifted towards Hermione. She was standing next to one of the unknown: A girl, relatively tall and with dark hair. Hermione was talking, pointing at the sky, most likely saying something she’d read in _Hogwarts: A History,_ and the girl didn’t seem to mind. Around the pair of them were Dean and another boy. Where Dean looked intimidated by everything, the other boy was smiling, his eyes not stopping as they took everything in.

There were three other unknowns. Two boys and a girl. All three of them weren’t as intimidated as they _should_ be especially with all the eyes around them, indeed they seemed distracted: The girl was looking at the staff’s table, taking everyone in; one of the boys, blond, likely a relative of the girl, was looking at the people on the house tables, half listening to the other boy; and the last boy was looking at the ghosts that were in one corner, talking.

I pulled out my wand and tapped my leg, focusing on the boy.

“…home,” he was saying. “But then I read about them and things are different. Ghosts are different. I wish June could have been like this.”

The blond boy smiled a little, muttering, “Yeah.”

The Hat started to sing through its song before the first of the first years put it on. Hannah Abbot went to Hufflepuff, as I’d expected and what followed was me listening to people going to the Houses I knew they would.

“Granger, Hermione,” said Professor McGonagall.

Hermione stopped, she’d been talking and she jumped, freezing. The girl gave her a push and she nodded, starting forward for the Hat. She put it on with vigour and there was silence before, “Ravenclaw!”

My heart stopped a little and I frowned because…what?

There was applause from the Ravenclaw table and she ran to take a seat.

Of course it made sense. Hermione was smart. But even with that intellect, she’d still been sorted into Gryffindor. So what had changed now?

The sorting continued while I let my mind drift, trying to consider the implications.

“Hebert, Taylor,” said Professor McGonagall.

I focused again at the unknown. It was the dark-haired girl and she walked with a confidence beyond her age. She put on the Hat and there was silence…silence…silence…silence…

“Gryffindor!”

There was applause from Gryffindor. She went to go sit with her year mates, smiling a little at she was greeted. I saw Hermione frowning from her table, but she smiled when the Hebert girl gave her the thumbs up.

Maybe it was their friendship that had meant she went to Ravenclaw. But what about it could have meant that?

“Lambsbridge, Sylvester,” said McGonagall.

The Hat had no sooner been on the boy’s head before, “Slytherin!”

There was no applause for him at the Slytherin table, but the boy didn’t seem to mind because he was wearing a cheeky grin. He seemed too comfortable, too confident when it seemed like he was a Muggle-born.

“Matthieu, Evan.”

The boy put on the Hat and waited before, “Hufflepuff!”

There were claps, joining in the claps were the blond girl and boy.

“Thorburn, Blake.”

The blond boy stepped up, put on the Hat, then, “Hufflepuff!”

“Thorburn, Rose.”

It was the blonde girl’s turn to step up and she put on the Hat. “Ravenclaw!”

I stopped paying attention again, trying to get a sense of the unknowns and how they were reacting, turning my mind to figuring out why _they_ were the few differences that existed and if it meant something.

“Weasley, Ronald.”

“Gryffindor!”

Even if things had changed. At least one thing was the same.

There was applause as he was accepted into Gryffindor and from that point on, everyone was sorted as I remembered.

“Welcome all,” said Headmaster Dumbledore after the Sorting was complete. “Welcome especially to our first years who, I hope, will come to call Hogwarts their home above and beyond getting their education. I would also like to extend a welcome our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor James Brown.”

There was applause and I smiled, giving a wave.

“With that out of the way, I think we’d all best get to our banquet,” and with that, the food arrived.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sylvester**

_“Slytherin!”_

***

Fray had told me not to try and trick the Hat. I’d had no choice _but_ to try it. Wyvern meant I could shape how I saw the world, compartmentalise so I wouldn’t have certain thoughts. As an experiment, I’d warped things so I could be sorted into Hufflepuff.

It hadn’t worked.

I was more aware of the smile on my face as I walked to the Slytherin table, aware of the silence around me and the looks I was getting. I was paying attention, but it was in the peripheral sense. My mind was more on the Hat.

It could read minds, because mind reading was a thing here and mind manipulation could be easy as saying Confundo or Imperio—the last I wasn’t ever supposed to say because even with Fray’s influence she wouldn’t be able to get me out of Azkaban. I was _sure_ I could work around it, given time, maybe even escape from the place, but it wasn’t worth doing right now.

I sat and there wasdistance between me and everyone else. Many were reading me, some interested while others were disgusted, most of the disgust seemed centred around the lower years, those who were bad at hiding their tells.

 _Slytherin,_ the house of ambition, of purity and might, and in one word, all of that was cast aside. I’d messed it up.

The box was shaken.

I giggled, earning looks from others, but I ignored them, still paying attention in the peripheral sense and adding that to the image I had working at the back of my head. There was an interplay here, different to the interplays in Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. But all of it would be contained in a strong sense of ‘us versus them.’

The hierarchy would likely be enforced behind closed doors, but from a larger perspective, it would look like we were a unit.

_That means whatever happens, however they react, it won’t be here._

I mentally prepared myself, keeping track of what I wanted, seeing the bits and pieces that interested me and building a sense of how I would move forward.

“Malfoy, Draco,” said Professor McGonagall. I was only barely paying attention to the name. I hadn’t seen anything important about him except he came from money, but I saw the ripple that his name made.

People reacted, sitting straighter and watching. I caught small twitches that translated to hidden frowns, pursed lips and people sitting forward because he was _worth_ paying attention to.

Draco was _important,_ not in what he could personally do, but who he was connected to.

Draco was a Malfoy and the Malfoys were one of the most influential families in Wizarding Britain, and without hesitation, he was sorted into Slytherin.

There was applause and cheer, some more enthusiastic than others, and some with feigned enthusiasm. I could see the general trend: Everyone knew that Malfoy was important, at some point he’d take his father’s name and have his family’s wealth and influence, it was better to be on his side nowand reap the rewards in the future.

But most of them didn’t likeit.

I was smiling again, more ideas forming. The box had been shaken and people would react. I just needed to make sure that the aftermath _persisted,_ shuffling things so that I could be, if not the top of the food chain, then at least not at the bottom.

Malfoy strut as he walked in, a giant grin on him. He sat so that he was closest to the second years, sitting next to a blond boy who hadn’t bothered to clap.

Malfoy extended a hand. “Draco,” he said.

“Peter,” the boy said, shaking the hand and then looking away, turning to another boy who’d just been sorted into Hufflepuff. Draco let out a huffed breath, blushing a little and Peter noticed because he _grinned,_ one side of his mouth hitching up while the other stayed impassive.

It had been calculated or maybe it was luck?

Either way it tickled me, and since I was still getting used to Wyvern 2.0, that elicited a very real giggle. Draco turned my way, turning redder and he _scowled._ I stopped giggling but I was still grinning. Looking at the other Slytherins and there were a few who were holding back smiles, others who weren’t.

I could see that I didn’t have friends, not yet, but at least it was something.

I looked away from Draco, looked to the other tables and took it all in.

Ravenclaw was for the smart and that would be the interplay there, things would be decided less on familial ties but on how smart a person was and that could be horribly _beautiful._ The hierarchy would be the smartest in the lead and everyone wanting to catch up. It might open an atmosphere where people were pushing each other down to get ahead, helping only so far as it helped themselves and eventually burning out when things just didn’t line up right.

My eyes tracked the students from youngest to oldest. I could see the fresh faces and the excited smiles. I could see the increasing fatigue. I could see a girl who, on the first day back, had a book in front of her, not paying attention to the sorting. The others around her shot her looks, and some smirked, rubbing in that she was _just_ staying above water.

Gryffindor was for the brave and the hierarchy there would be decided by risk takers. I’d been expecting _bulk, Brunos,_ but that wasn’t it. Magic was involved and the greatest feat could mean being deft at spells, no need for bulk. I didn’t have as much information as I’d liked there, but I could see how things leaned, see how they gathered together and who was near the top. A pair of red-headed twins seemed to have the attention of many, with people flocking around them, and I could see another red-headed boy, older than the twins and yet with similar features, and he _didn’t_ have the same respect.

Hufflepuff was a mixed bag. I could see anxiety, see people who were _tired,_ and more than a few feigned smiles. Hufflepuff was the House of the helpers, the friendly people that got the job done. But, it seemed, helping had its downsides, especially when it was something you _had_ to live up to.

Watching it all and my head felt _hot._ I was taking in so much with my approach shifting with every new piece of information. I still didn’t know what I really wanted, even if I knew I wanted my Lambs, but I was forming plans and approaches on how to move forward, where I’d have to seed the chaos, where I’d have to push and pull to challenge people, to mould them into their bestselves, to keep all of this from stagnation.

Even if it all was in the abstract.

“Are you going to be doing that through the entire meal?” said a boy. He’d sat next to me and that had earned attention by the act. Everything was political in Slytherin, each act had meaning and those that didn’t know that were stupid and would be at the bottom rung.

“Doing what?” I asked.

“Grin like an idiot?” he said. A Professor had been introduced: Professor James Brown and that man was _taut._ I filed this away, making a note to remember it if I had to cause trouble in his class or if I wanted to get him fired. Taut meant losing control was easy or the _perception_ of losing control. I could see a situation, especially since he was new, where I made him lose his temper and overreact, and have that ripple to parents that would make him lose his job.

 _But that might not be needed,_ I thought, because I didn’t get the sense he was one of the bad ones, even if I didn’t know why my prey instinct gave me that general read.

I shrugged. “Worth grinning,” I said. “Until like about a month ago, I didn’t know magic existed.”

_I’m a Muggle-born, a Mudblood. That means I don’t have political power and I should be looked down on. Underestimated._

Underestimation meant lowered guard. More than a few would want me to join them as a supplicant, and I could use that in the future.

“Muggle-borns aren’t sorted into Slytherin,” said a girl, a second year.

“Genevieve Fray was a Muggle-born and she was sorted here,” another girl said, this one a third year.

“Yeah, but isn’t she a half-blood?” another said, a first year.

“She’s my guardian,” I put in. Which earned more of an interested expression from the upper years.

“Only reason someone like her would be paying attention to you is if you were important,” said another girl.

“He could be a half-blood,” said a boy.

“Blood traitor if he’s an orphan.”

All of them talking _about_ me in a way that was demeaning. Whatever the case I was _bad,_ lower than them all and I wasn’t a part of the game. I had Fray’s ear, but it wasn’t important because it was unlikely she’d listen to anything I said. Not as much political power as being son of Lucius Malfoy or the grandson of Rose Thorburn.

I started eating, picking and choosing at different things to get a sense of the taste. I knew about pattern and how much we enjoyed it. I was different, at least a little, but I knew that I sometimes reverted to what I knew. I could see myself doing it here in the future. I could see myself getting distracted and stop experimenting with the food, instead eating what I knew when there was just so much on offer.

I mentally shook my hand and wiped everything away. My attention had been too broad and I was looking at too much, picking up too many balls before I even got the rhythm of my juggling down.

_Start from the beginning: What are you trying to do?_

I wanted Lambs, to fill the hole. Wyvern helped, I’d turned things so it didn’t hurt as bad, but I still felt empty without them. Surrounding myself with people with skill helped, fighting with them even more. It would be a facsimile, but a facsimile I needed.

Taylor was interesting. She was guarded in a way I didn’t understand, especially with what I’d picked up. Her mother was friendly and outgoing, taking the opportunity to talk to anyone she could, get a sense of their ideas and who they were; and her father was scared, not of anything in particular but at abstractions. The fear meant he was guarded, but his guard was twofold, at the world around him and himself, it felt like he was more scared at himself than anything external.

There wouldn’t be abuse. It just didn’t click. Yet Taylor seemed like a person who’d faced the sort of hardships that might be abuse.

She didn’t like people…no, that wasn’t right. She liked people when she knew them, as I’d seen with how she looked at Hermione, but she didn’t let people in easily. She was suspicious of me, though that had decreased a little—I still didn’t know why because it’d all been so sudden—and she kept Dean at a distance.

Maybe it was the different personalities?

Whatever the case, she was something I wanted to understand, to unwrap layer by layer and see how she reacted. She was someone I wanted close because even though it didn’t make sense, she _believed_ she had enough skill that she could hurt me. Which, of course didn’t take much because I was smaller and thinner than her, but she’d looked the same way when a boy had tried to kick us out of our compartment so he and his friends could have it for themselves.

There was her and it seemed more and more that Hermione might have to be part and parcel of that because of how close Taylor was to her. I looked back, seeing Hermione on the Ravenclaw table, talking to a blonde girl. Hermione could be grating a little in how much she wanted to _share_ what she knew, but the blonde girl was taking it in stride, asking more and more questions which was egging Hermione on.

More than anything, the blonde girl seemed _interested._

“Don’t even think about it,” said Peter. “She’s _way_ above your station.”

“Who is she?” I asked.

“My cousin, Rose Thorburn.”

“How many of you _are_ there?” asked a boy, a first year. “You’re just as bad as the Weasleys.” The boy was grinning like he’d said something clever. I didn’t really understand it. It had an effect, though.

Peter grinned and I grinned in anticipation. “I mean, that’s the beauty of abstaining from in-breeding,” he said. The boy looked like he’d been slapped, indeed a lot of people looked like they’d been slapped. “We sprout, grow because we’re not _deficient_. While you lot get dumber the more of you are born.”

A snort escaped me and that _incensed_ people.

Where the giggles just happened, the snort was intentional. Peter grinned further. He’d been trying to get a reaction and I’d just magnified it. The boy had a good eye because he could see it, even if he couldn’t conceptualise it. That I’d laughed, it made things better by making the worse. There was a shine in his eyes as he looked at me.

People were angrier at Peter than at me, but I could see glances being shot at an older girl who was talking to other girls, ignoring all of this, before their anger turned to me. The girl would be a sister or a cousin, either way she was protecting Peter, making reprisal hard for anyone. I was the next target.

Something would happen and I needed to sort out how to deal with it. I couldn’t fight, the only offensive spell I knew was the Tripping Jinx, and even that wouldn’t be good because I’d be attacked from multiple angles. I’d lose, but I needed to make that loss a success.

***

Just after dinner and we were walking to our Common Room. We’d been the first out, our prefects rushing us along because they didn’t want to wait until everyone else was out. It meant the first years had to rush to get out, making sure to stick together or we’d get lost.

There was a general thrum, the upper years taking a leisurely walk while we first years had to rush to stay with the prefect. We turned, went down a spiralling staircase and into colder parts of the castle, what felt like a dungeon _._

The thrum I could use, the jostle of people and wanting to stay close to the prefect, not wanting to get lost when we didn’t know where our Common Room was. Draco, and two boys, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, were close and I moved with the crowd, getting closer and closer until I rushed ahead, passing by Crabbe and then shoulder checking Draco to get past him. He toppled to the side, Pansy Parkinson almost tripping over him in her rush.

I didn’t look back, but I wasn’t surprised when Crabbe’s hand caught my shoulder, stopping me from moving. People were stopping, the prefect slowing because he sensed that something was going to happen. People who’d been lagging picked up their pace so they wouldn’t miss this.

“You bumped into Draco,” Crabbe said. He was taller and bigger, with too much baby fat for it to be called muscle. Even so he was _strong,_ the hold wasn’t something I could pull out from without effort, and I had the sense he’d use that effort to make another move. Any fight and I’d lose.

“Did I?” I said, looking at Draco who’d just pulled himself up and was brushing himself off, blushing. “Or was he just in my way?”

“In _your_ way?” said Draco. “I don’t think you know how things—”

“Shut up,” I said. “Your voice is grating.”

He blushed again, looking around, aware of the attention. I felt Crabbe’s hold getting tighter, looking me in the face with a scowl. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were focused on my face, watching my expression, while those with distance were focusing on my body. If I pulled out my wand they’d see it.

But they were interested in seeing this play out. Some wanting to see me put in my place, seeing the status quo reasserted.

If I pulled out my wand, they wouldn’t say anything.

I pulled out my wand.

“Do you know who I am?” Draco asked as Crabbe said, _“Apologise.”_

“You’re not important,” I said to Draco, ignoring Crabbe. “Your father is, but you’re not. So don’t pretend like you are. You’re just some pale, blond kid with an annoying voice. So shut up.”

I could see smirks, _glee_ but it was all beneath the surface. But I could see those that still remembered me laughing at the in-breeding joke, see that they were calculating when to act both to earn an advantage with Draco, and hit me back.

That didn’t matter though, because that would have happened whatever the case. Right now, I needed to focus on the glee. I was earning allies, people that liked me even if they wouldn’t help me here, that would be something I’d have to foster without debasing myself.

“How dare you,” said Draco, reaching for his wand. I stepped back and Crabbe moved to pull.

 _Keep it simple,_ I thought stamping down all other thoughts as my mind wanted to consider everything, how they’d moved, which spells they might use, if I would be attacked from behind.

“Lapsus!” I said as there was a crack and a flash of light, Crabbe toppling forward and his grip loosening. I stepped back and out of the way, my wand pointing at Draco who’d stumbled back in surprise and finding over a dozen wands pointed in my direction and over five spells already flying.

I was _hit,_ sent flying back, but I had the broadest grin even as their spells got to work.


	8. Chapter 8

**Blake**

_“Hufflepuff!”_

_***_

“…the best house at Hogwarts,” said Nancy Gilligan. “Do you know that Minister Fudge was in Hufflepuff?”

Nancy was a prefect. She was in her a sixth year, with her and Edmund Grover gathering Hufflepuff’s first years into lines as the rest of the students filed out. It was just after dinner and I was still getting used to _this._

I knew magic. I’d been dealing with it for a while, with all the shit that came with it, and it was freeing in to see that magic could be this: Hogwarts was large like a demesne, its dimensions bent in strange little ways; the ceiling was enchanted so it showed the night’s sky, mirroring the real sky outside. I’d heard a girl talking about it not always being the case, that the sky had been enchanted by an Esmeralda Beergrove, a witch who’d been taught by Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the founders, and had been good at making paintings come to life with magic.

_Art._

It was still so strange to think that these people didn’t think about the price of magic. That they would just set up spells that meant food appeared from nowhere, that _every_ painting seemed to have a living inhabitant, that the little owl on Headmaster Dumbledore’s dais would go to sleep when the dais wasn’t being used, and wake up, spreading its wings when the man was about to speak.

All of it was just so _wasteful_ and it was all done unnecessarily and…

I chuckled because I loved it.

Evan had been talking to a girl, she was short with mousy features and seemed to have bad acne even though she was too young for it. He looked at me, a brow raised.

“This place is amazing,” I said.

“Right?” said Evan and he giggled.

“Focus, please,” said Nancy. “Listen carefully. Hogwarts at the best of times is mischievous, with halls that like to turn you around, stairs that will move and get you to a different floor, steps that vanish as you’re stepping on them, and that’s not to mention _Peeves.”_

“Ugh, Peeves,” said Edmund.

“Who’s Peeves?” Evan asked.

“Our poltergeist,” said Edmund. “I say that thing inherited all of its nature from Gryffindor.”

“Except more mean spirited,” said Nancy.

“Like I said, Gryffindors,” said Edmund. “Anyway, we should get going, place is cleared enough we’ll be able to make it to our common room.”

“Wait,” said Evan and he tapped me, pointing. I looked and Rose had just finished talking to one of her prefects. She started at a short jog towards us.

“Can I?” I asked Nancy.

“Sure,” she said. “Make it quick.”

I nodded and met Rose halfway. “This is crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling a little. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone use magic like this. It really hits home that the price isn’t the same.”

“Yeah,” I said, still smiling. A pair of ghosts hovered through a wall from the next room, deep in a conversation. I took a breath, looking at Rose and my smile slipped.

“There are mermaids here,” she said. “If Evan is here, then…”

“Green Eyes?”

She nodded. “I’m going to ask around, do some reading.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said. “At least one of us should be happy.”

I frowned. I couldn’t help but think it was manipulation, giving me something so I would help her. Especially with that back-handed comment.

“Thorburn!” said Edmund. “Hurry it up.”

I took a breath, letting it out, not saying anything.

She sighed. “I wasn’t trying to manipulate you,” she said. “Just something I heard and thought you’d like to know.”

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

I went back to the others. “What was that about?” Evan asked.

“Tell you when we’re alone,” I whispered.

“Let’s get on it, then,” said Edmund. “Follow us and stay close.”

We left the Great Hall as a group, keeping close to Nancy and Edmund. We turned left, went up one flight of stairs, down a long hall that slanted up, got on another staircase and went up three flights before we finally arrived, stopping in front of a few barrels.

“For those of you not keeping track, we’re still on the ground floor,” said Nancy.

“What?” said a girl. Hannah Abbot if I was remembering right. “We should be five floors up _at least_.”

“The castle’s feeling like showing off tonight,” said Edmund. “It doesn’t do this very often, at worst it’ll get you lost for a few minutes, maybe an hour, before you get where you want to be.”

“Does that mean we can use this as an excuse to be late for class?” said a girl, Wayne Smith.

“I wouldn’t,” said Nancy.

“Except for Professor Binns,” Edmund said. “But then, you can just _be_ late with Professor Binns and it won’t matter.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Susan Bones asked.

“Ghost,” said Edmund as we stepped into the common room. It was late into the night and yet the glow of the Hufflepuff common room was warm. Most of the place was made of a tanned stone, with warm brown wooden chairs and tables, round window set up along the walls and yellow-orange light akin to sunlight streaming in. The aesthetic of the room was gold and black, with smatterings of green in the form of plants growing out of the walls. It seemed to instil a homely presence as we got in.

A teacher stood in the middle of all this, short and stout, chubby cheeks and a genial smile.

“Professor Sprout,” said Edmund.

“Edmund, dear,” she said, smiling. “You took a bit to get here.”

“The castle was making a show of it,” said Nancy. “It gave the firsties a good look of the castle without taking us to one of the towers.”

Professor Sprout was beaming now. “Well, it’s good that you made it here safely,” she said. “Thank you. Both of you. I’ll be talking to the first years.”

They nodded and left, leaving us with Professor Sprout.

“Come closer,” she said all at once, beckoning us forward. “I want to make sure you can hear me.”

We shuffled closer, standing in a crescent shape around her.

“Hufflepuff,” she said, “the house often overlooked because we don’t hold lofty ideals as bravery, intellect or ambition. Instead we pride ourselves in our ability to, above all, get things done. We’re the helpers, the ones who take in those who’ve been forsaken. We truly are all family.

“So, if you’re ever alone, if you feel like things are getting too much, know that the people of this house, will be more than happy to help you. Be it with your studies or anything else, look to the closest Hufflepuff for help.”

She was smiling as she finished.

“Now, it’s very late and you should all be tired after the day you’ve had.” She pulled out her wand and waved it, conjuring two dolls made of light, one male and the other female. “Follow them and they’ll lead you to your rooms. Good night, sleep tight and prepare yourselves for tomorrow.”

And with that, we went to our rooms.

There were ten of us in total, with things split at seven girls to four boys. The other two were Wayne Hopkins and Zacharias Smith. Our room was the same colour palate as the common room, yellow and black, with a window above us streaming out a low golden light. There were four four-poster beds with yellow curtains folded up around them, the insignia of Hufflepuff house etched onto them.

“I’m _knackered,”_ said Wayne, going over to a four-poster bed and throwing himself face first. “Feels like I could sleep forever.”

“Good thing to get a good night’s rest before tomorrow,” said Zacharias. “We’ll have to be up extra early so we don’t get lost.”

“The castle isn’t supposed to do that again,” said Evan. He yawned.

“Yeah but this place is still _big,”_ said Zacharias. “Even if it doesn’t mess with us we might still get lost.”

Evan shrugged, giving me a look. From having my own room, _privacy,_ to sharing it with people I didn’t know. I didn’t like it, making me think back to when I’d been going from shelter to shelter, the press of people all around me, before I’d gotten my apartment. I took a breath, letting it out slowly as I watched the others. They were stripping without a care, pulling out their pyjamas.

I pulled out my stuff, got on my bed and closed the curtains before changing, then I opened them again to see the others. They’d been talking, I realised, but I hadn’t been able to hear them. They didn’t mention anything about me changing in private when I opened my curtains, though I could see a bit of sympathy from Wayne.

“What were you and Rose talking about?” Evan asked. “You said you’d tell me.”

“There are mermaids close,” I said. “She thinks Green Eyes might be close.”

Evan grinned. “We’ll try and find her?”

I nodded.

“Whose Green Eyes?” Zacharias asked.

“The best mermaid ever,” said Evan. “She’s a friend of ours.”

“You’re friends with a mermaid?” said Wayne. “You can talk to them?”

“Well, yeah,” said Evan, frowning. “They speak English...?”

“Oh,” said Wayne. “Those aren’t the sort that live around here. These ones have their own language. Some girl was talking about it on our boat.”

“The girl with the bushy hair?” said Zacharias. Wayne nodded while Zacharias groaned. “She was prattling on and _on_ about things she’d read.”

I sat on my bed, watching them as they spoke. Evan joined in and it was seamless. It was easy to forget that he’d been a kid, that he shouldn’t have been part of all the shit in the world before, that he shouldn’t have been dead in the first place. But I liked seeing him here, _now,_ how he was talking with people his age without having to worry about my Karma.

At some point, while watching them, I drifted asleep.

***

At eight in the morning we’d already arrived in the Great Hall, getting a healthy hit of breakfast. It wasn’t as formal as the night before, with mingling between houses. This was the perfect opportunity for Peter, Paige and Rose to arrive, the first of the three with a very smug grin.

“If you were worried about telling your parents that you got sorted into Hufflepuff, don’t worry, I already told them,” said Peter. “And it’s only a matter of time before it gets to Grandmother.”

“You say that like I care,” I said.

“Really, though. _Hufflepuff?”_ he said.

“I’m very good with the Stinging Jinx,” said an older boy opposite us. “So, careful what you say.”

“You wouldn’t attack me,” said Peter. “I’m a Thorburn. All of Slytherin would rally against you.”

The older boy sighed, shaking his head. “I can bet you that what you’re saying isn’t going to happen,” he said. “So, test me.”

Peter scowled but didn’t add anything more.

“How was your night?” I asked Rose.

“Didn’t sleep much,” she said, smiling. “There are a _lot_ of books in Ravenclaw tower. I started reading. I only fell asleep because someone hit me with a spell.”

“It’s an enchantment on the tower,” said Paige. “A lot of us are like you at first, wanting to read and read and read. So, there’s magic in the tower that makes sure we sleep. Of course it’s an easy spell to shield yourself from, but you only get taught the spell after third year.”

“Have you learnt it yet?” I asked.

Paige blushed.

“Teach me,” said Rose.

“Okay,” she said. “But you have to play it cool. Don’t read where you can be seen.”

“My sister the rebel,” said Peter.

“Why aren’t you hanging out with the other Slytherin tossers?” said Paige, still blushing.

Peter’s expression scrunched. “Malfoy’s there and he’s an annoying little git.”

Evan let out a bark of laughter, chocking because he’d been sipping orange juice. He coughed while Zacharias hit him on the back. Peter frowned as he looked at Evan, his choking turning into wheezing laughter.

“Well, our families _are_ allies,” said Paige.

“Still doesn’t mean he’s not annoying. He’s boring, wanting to be Lucius except he’s _petulant.”_ Peter grinned. “It was a good thing that he got knocked down a peg.” He turned, pointing at a boy who’d moved from the Slytherin table to the Gryffindors. “That kid told him that he was nothing. It was _beautiful._ Malfoy tried to hex him, but the boy, Sylvester’s his name, hit Malfoy’s minion with a Tripping Jinx. Of course Malfoy already has cronies so the boy was hexed like hell, but it was fun to watch it.”

Looking at the boy and I could see that he had little horns growing out of his head, his hair was moving like tentacles and his ears were twitching. Even so, he seemed to be wearing a large grin as he talked to his group of friends, ignoring a scowl that was being shot his way by a few of the other Gryffindors sitting around him.

“He’s a Muggle-born, isn’t he?” said Paige. “I didn’t think they could go into Slytherin.”

Peter shrugged. “He’s an orphan, so he could just be a half-blood, like that Fray woman or the Dark Lord.”

A few people turned to look at us, some getting up and leaving, while others went pale. I was _sure_ Peter had done that just to get a reaction.

Paige sighed. “I’m gonna get going,” she said. “Go get to my morning class on time. Bye,” she said and she left.

“Free morning period,” said Peter, pumping up his fist. “See you guys at lunch.”

“See ya, Peter,” said Evan. Peter stopped short and scowled, making Evan grin. He left, going back to the Slytherin table and picking up a few of his friends before they left.

“Thorburn twin! The girl!” a voice said.

“That’s my prefect. Gotta go.”

I nodded and looked out for Edmund who was walking in, holding sheaves of parchment.

“Morning guys. Good to see you made it here okay,” he said.

“Had some help,” said Susan Bones.

“That’s good. Anyway, these are your schedules,” he said. “There’s a class called Quill Writing and as for now it’s compulsory for everyone. But if your penmanship is passable, then you’ll have a free slot in that class.”

“But I know perfectly well how to write with a quill,” said Susan.

“I don’t,” said Evan. “Mom taught me to write with a pen.”

“What’s a pen?” said Wayne.

“It’s like quill, except you don’t ink it,” said Evan.

“An enchanted quill?” he said.

“No,” said Evan. “It’s… Blake.”

“This is gonna take too long,” said Edmund. He reached for a spoon, muttered under his breath and tapped the spoon with his wand. It shifted, both colour and shape changing, and it turned into a pen without ink. “That tube thing inside holds ink.”

“But how does it write?” said Wayne.

Edmund shrugged. “Muggle magic.”

“Muggles don’t have magic,” said another boy, a second year. He was sitting slightly up so he could see the pen.

Edmund shrugged again. “I don’t know. It’s…stuff, alright. Someone tried to explain it to me once and I sort of got it, but now I don’t remember. Anyway, some people need to learn to write with a quill. They’re different and that’s okay. Hold that and feel what it’s like to write with it.”

As Susan and Wayne took turns doing that. I looked over the schedule, which was surprisingly sparse with lots of free time in-between everything. There were nine subjects in all: Charms, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, Flying and Quill Writing.

Each class was fifty minutes long, with two periods of the class per week for all of them save Flying and Quill Writing. For Flying and Quill Writing there was one class per week and they were on Fridays, the only classes we had on Fridays.

My first class would be at nine, Herbology, and we’d be sharing the class with Gryffindor.

As a group we finished off breakfast and waited with the Gryffindors so their prefect could take us to one of the greenhouses. Evan, Zacharias and Wayne got together with the other boys, while the girls clustered together. I was left a little alone, but I wasn’t the only one, there was a girl who seemed to be making it a point to keep as far away from the thrum as she could.

She didn’t _look_ uncomfortable, but I could tell she was as uncomfortable as I felt.

“Blake!” said Evan. “That’s Taylor! Taylor, he’s Blake!”

Which was… _embarrassing._ It felt like Evan was a parent and he was just _foisting_ the both of us together, hoping we’d become friends.

I sighed. “He’s…rambunctious,” I said with a small smile. “Hi. I’m Blake.”

“Taylor,” she said. She shrugged. “He’s personable. People like that think you can just go up and talk to people.”

“He’s young,” I said with a shrug. “Still room to grow.”

She smiled, chuckling. “We’re the same age as him.”

“Yeah,” I said, my own smile. She couldn’t be further from the truth.

Both of us went quiet, which left an awkward air to everything.

Evan groaned, saying something up front and then coming closer. He smiled at Taylor.

“Please don’t,” she said. His smile slipped. She shook her head.

“I was just going to introduce myself,” he said.

“I got who you are through context,” she said. “Hello, Evan, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Um…” He looked at me. “I…Um…I…?” He looked at Taylor then looked at me. “I…”

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you tongue-tied,” I said with a smile.

Evan frowned. “I’m…gonna go,” he said.

“That was mean,” I said. “Evan’s trying to help.”

“I don’t think he’ll be helping,” she said. “He’ll try to force us into being friends and I don’t really need that. I know he’s your friend, but…” She shook her head.

“I get it,” I said. “But, even if he didn’t plan it. We’re talking.”

She shrugged and went quiet, focusing ahead.

One side of the greenhouse appeared in the distance. This one was set against one of the walls of the castle, with its glass wall connecting to a low stone wall.

“Okay,” said the Gryffindor guy. “Just a straight path. If it feels like you’re turning, stop for a few minutes and things will even out. If Peeves appears then tell him he’s making you late for class. If he doesn’t listen, well…” He shrugged. “Good practice in actually dealing with him.”

And with that, the Gryffindor prefect left.

We didn’t get lost and we didn’t run into Peeves. Professor Sprout was already there, beaming as she stood in front of the class.

“Hello, students,” she said. “Come along. Come along, so we can get started on our lessons.”

The desks were two a person and the others split off, which meant I sat next to Taylor. The greenhouses were hot but there were drifts of fresh air that seemed to appear out of nowhere, there were plants growing along the walls and the glass, holding onto sheer surfaces. But even with the plants that should have cast shadows over us, there was only light.

Taylor and I hadn’t talked since talking about Evan and honestly, I didn’t mind. She didn’t think it was awkward, didn’t need to fill the silence, so there was no reason for me to feel that it _was_ awkward.

“Herbology is the study of magical plants,” said Professor Sprout. “What they are, their properties, how to grow and nurture them. I’ll be teaching you of their dangers, their uses in medicine, potions and, if you join the Cooking Club, as ingredients for food. Today, we’ll start things on the simpler end, working on perhaps the basest of lessons for any Herbologist: soil types. If you’ll pull out your textbooks and open them to page a hundred, we’ll get started.”

And we got started.


	9. Chapter 9

**Taylor**

_“Gryffindor!”_

***

“Taylor,” said Hermione, excitement in her voice. I looked up from my breakfast, giving a small wave as she sat opposite me. I sat at the edge of Gryffindor table, my backpack on the other side and papers in front of me with the food pushed back, keeping anyone else from sitting too close.

This was a school, a _magical_ school, but it was still a school and it brought back memories of Winslow. Honestly it was a little pathetic, that two years had passed and everything in Winslow still affected me, that it still drove the person I was. Sometimes I wished that dealing with problems was as easy as just knowing you had them.

“Oh, Ravenclaw is _so_ wonderful,” she said. “There were books _everywhere_. Honestly, it felt like I was in a library. I almost didn’t sleep trying to see their selection.”

“Glad you’re happy,” I said. There was cereal in front of me and I took a spoon full, chewing. I put my spoon down and focused on my letter to Mom. I already had a draft, telling her about everything but the more I read it, the more it seemed _lacking._

“How was your night at Gryffindor?” Hermione asked. “Have you made any new friends?”

I shrugged. I hadn’t. We’d gone into our rooms and I’d gotten into bed, bypassing all the introductions.

“Can you read this?” I said. Something felt off about it but I couldn’t figure out what. “I feel like there’s something missing but I can’t figure it out.”

Hermione brimmed with excitement. She took the piece of paper and quickly read through it, reading so fast that it seemed like she was just skimming. She put it down and gave me a look.

“It’s good,” she said. “But…” She frowned, reaching into her own bag and pulled out her own letter. She handed it over. “Read this.”

I quickly read it over: A letter to her parents describing Hogwarts. It was in detail, with Hermione writing more about what she liked and giving more information about her teachers and the speech Professor Flitwick had given to his first years. Mine, in comparison, was rather dry, perfunctory. Almost like I didn’t want to be writing the letter _._ Which was the furthest thing from the truth. It was only a night, but I missed my parents. I felt a creeping feeling that if I didn’t keep them in mind, then dream-logic would make them not exist.

I pulled out a notebook and started writing again, this time paying attention to how I was writing. Mom loved to know anything and _everything_ about me, and I didn’t mind telling her. So I started: I’d been sorted into Gryffindor house, which was supposed to be the house of the brave and gallant; the castle was amazing, the same spells that were on my suitcase except in excess; I told her about the ceiling which reflected the night’s sky, even about how rain would fall inside but disappear before it hit the tables. I told her about the moving staircases, how there was a vanishing stair that was just a safety hazard and how this place had ghosts—which were good—and a poltergeist that was something of a trickster.

“This is better,” said Hermione. “Though it doesn’t say anything about friends. I mean…if _I_ can make friends, then—”

“I’m asocial,” I said. “I keep telling you.”

“How can you be asocial if Dean, Sylvester and me—”

“And I,” I corrected.

“And I, yes,” she said. “If we’re your friends?”

I shrugged, but then wrote to tell Mom that I hadn’t made friends but I was happy that most of my other year mates had stopped trying when I’d made things clear. I added, though, that Hermione was my friend and that was good, and that I would at least _try_ to make one more friend to see how it worked out.

With my letter done, I folded it up and put it in an envelope, writing our address and putting it in my bag.

“Come with me to the Owlery when we have the time?”

“I’ve been wanting to explore this place,” said Hermione. “There’s supposed to be a gargoyle that’s a very good singer of the fifth floor. You don’t mind looking for it, do you?”

I shook my head. Hermione started picking at fruit and putting it in her bag. I followed suit. It was a good idea to have something to eat through the day. The Great Hall had a strict schedule when it came to serving food. It was very likely we wouldn’t be able to eat until lunch.

“What are you doing here, Slytherin!” said a second-year boy, pointing a finger. I looked up and it was Sylvester. He was grinning like he usually did, but he was different: His hair was clumped together and waving in the air like tentacles; he had little horns growing out of his head, black things that gleamed in the light; his ears were twitching, slow at first and then ramping up so much that they were flapping; and his canines were a little larger, a little longer.

“Oh, no,” said Hermione. “What happened to you?”

“Hexed,” said Sylvester, ignoring the second year and sitting next to Hermione. He waved at Dean who was sitting with the other Gryffindor boys. Dean started to wave before he stopped. He looked at his friends and hesitated.

Sylvester didn’t seem to mind, but… _Emma._

It still grated that it was so close. I’d gotten over her. I’d gotten over everything at Winslow but I wasn’t enjoying this. I wasn’t enjoying a _magic_ school _._

Maybe it was that Sylvester was being bullied, except instead of shoves and pushes, he’d been hexed. Or maybe he deserved it? Maybe his lack of boundaries had grated someone else and instead of a threat they’d attacked.

“Why?” I asked. “Why’d they hex you?”

Sylvester grinned and my stomach twisted, the alarm bells ringing at the back of my head.

“They look down on me,” he said, “and I needled them. Stupid, really.”

 _Really,_ a part of me thought. _You’re saying something like this can be justified? That his differences would give them a reason to do this?_

“You have to tell your Head of House,” said Hermione. “Behaviour like that is barbaric. It might be because,” and she whispered, “you’re Muggle-born. Slytherin think they’re better than us.”

“Yeah, that has something to do with it,” said Sylvester.

I was frowning even more, looking at the staff table. There were three teachers there but I didn’t know their names. They were talking between themselves, not paying much attention to us. They weren’t really policing us, but they were a deterrent.

Would they do anything if we told them about Sylvester?

“And Professor Snape saw this and didn’t say anything,” he said with a shrug.

“That’s terrible,” said Hermione.

“Snape’s terrible incarnate,” said a boy who was sitting too close to us. “Good luck getting anything from him.”

I had frown through all of it, my brain rushing through all I could do to deal with this. I didn’t know the rules. It was the first day and I didn’t really know the teachers. What could be done here?

What had I done before?

The memories were a little foggy, something I hadn’t thought about in a long time, but I realised I hadn’t really _done_ anything to deal with it. The last thing I remembered was a meeting that went to shit, then I’d just stopped going to school. I’d felt better because I hadn’t had to deal with being bullied, but was it really dealing with the problem?

I looked at Sylvester. He’d reminded me of my friend and now he reminded me of myself. Maybe that was why I was thinking a lot about my past school life, because I recognised that he would be going through that. It felt even worse for him because he’d have to deal with it longer and then there was how his brain worked. If he had boundary issues then that would just add fuel to the fire.

“But don’t worry,” he said with a grin. “I’ve dealt with worse. I’ll handle this.”

A lie? The same wall I’d put up with Dad?

All at once I felt a bit of sympathy for Dad. He _must_ have seen this, seen the signs, and he must have felt useless. Maybe I hadn’t been making things better by closing myself off.

“Oh, hey,” said Sylvester. “I think I’m wanted even if they aren’t saying anything.” He stood and then went to his house table, where a sixth year was handing out schedules.

“I’d better be going too,” said Hermione and I nodded absently.

I wasn’t paying much attention to things for most of it. I collected my schedule and looked through it. The class structure was nice in that it was spread out, with free periods dominating most of the schedule. When I commented on this, a red headed boy that looked a little like Ron Weasley told me that the Professors made up for this by giving a _lot_ of homework.

We were collected then by another prefect, a bored looking boy that looked like he had better things to do. My house and Hufflepuff house, going further into this building that didn’t make sense.

I pulled as far back as I could without losing the group and getting lost, letting the Sylvester issue run through my mind. I wanted to come up with a plan, have the perfect solution that might help him, but I couldn’t find it. Telling the teachers would mean detentions, maybe suspensions—and I didn’t know how that would work in a boarding school—but it wouldn’t be _dealing_ with Sylvester’s issue. He would still be surrounded by people who looked down on him and thus had no qualms with hexing him.

“Blake!” a boy shouted and I was startled a little because I hadn’t been paying enough attention. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of loss at my power because of this. It wasn’t something I’d noticed while I’d had powers, but being without them and I felt like I didn’t turn my head enough. Which meant, though I didn’t bump into things, I tended to miss things I should have noticed. “That’s Taylor! Taylor, he’s Blake!”

I looked at the boy who’d moved away from the crowd, closer to me than the others, then the boy who’d talked. My Mom would have done that. She _had_ done that, but I think that was just normal parent behaviour. Play-dates, they called it. I shivered, those had _not_ been fun.

The boy next to me introduced himself. Blake Thorburn. I did the same and we stopped talking, giving me time to think back to Sylvester. I _wanted_ to help him because _I’d_ wanted to be helped. I’d wanted someone on my side and yet—

The boy who’d shouted was coming to us.

“Please don’t,” I said. He stopped, his smiling dropping. That might have been rude, but I didn’t really want to talk to him. He was eleven and hanging out with eleven-year olds wasn’t something I wanted to do. I didn’t mind Blake because he hadn’t said anything, but I could already feel that Evan would try to make conversation.

“I was going to introduce myself,” he said.

“I got who you are through context. Hello, Evan, it’s nice to meet you.”

The boy stuttered which made me feel a little bad, but not enough to extend an olive branch. He was personable and had already made friends with most of Gryffindor. He didn’t need me in his friend group.

But he was friends with Blake and Blake didn’t like my rude tone.

I think _that’s_ what I’d wanted more than anything. The thing Blake was doing where he was speaking up for his friend. To _have_ friends in the first place. Not to be alone. Maybe I could give Sylvester that to start with?

We got into Herbology, a class where we were supposed to be learning about magical plants and the first lesson was about soil types. It was very dry to be honest, boringly so, but Professor Sprout went through it with an unparalleled enthusiasm that I couldn’t help but pay attention. By the end of the lesson we already had our homework, Professor Sprout wanted us to prepare a chart with the different types of soils.

She flicked her wand and conjured a large piece of paper, showing us her own chart. There were seven different types, all of them written in big, bold letters and enclosed in boxes.

“This something that will be useful in seeing which magical plant grows in which types of soils, as well as the temperament that certain soils impart on their plants, something we’ll be discussing in our next class. You can do it as a group if you want, no group must be larger than four, though. I’ll want this…next week in our second period, that’s when it’ll be useful. Class dismissed.”

I started packing up then pulled out my schedule. My next class was History of Magic before I had a little free time. No chance to meet Sylvester, but maybe I could give him something.

“It was cool to meet you,” said Blake.

“Yeah,” I said back. We hadn’t said anything to each other through all of class, with our only communication being him asking me where something was on the textbook when Professor Sprout moved too fast. “Dean,” I said. He’d been already starting to leave with the other boys. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Um…sure,” he said with a frown.

“Bye, Blake.”

Blake nodded and left.

“What’s up?” said Dean. We were a little behind the crowd of first years. No prefect had arrived to come fetch us, which meant this was the first time we were going through the castle on our own.

“This morning,” I said. “Sylvester greeted you and you didn’t greet back.”

Dean blushed, looking down. “I mean…He’s a _Slytherin_ isn’t he?”

“I don’t think even _you_ know what that means,” I said.

Dean looked down, ashamed, but I could see a little anger in how he held himself. “Do you know that most of the…the…bad guys were part of Slytherin during the war?” he said, a little defensive.

I wanted to push, push how he was thinking but that wouldn’t work, would it? I was trying to get him to see that the way he was thinking was flawed and most people didn’t like what they thought being bulldozed through.

_What would Mom do? What would Mom say?_

I took a deep breath and let it out. “Dean, how long have you been Sylvester’s friend?” I asked.

He crossed his arms. “A bit over a month. He went by my house a lot. Even had us meet with Hermione, convinced my Mum that I should go.” He was smiling a little.

“He’s your friend, right?”

“Yeah,” said Dean. “But—”

“He’s in Slytherin now and he’s evil?” making sure that my sarcasm wasn’t lost.

“Yeah.”

“What has he done that makes him evil? Or is being in Slytherin the only thing that’s needed for a person to be evil?”

He stopped, thinking, his face working before he said, “The Sorting Hat must have seen it. In his head. That’s why it sent him there.”

I frowned. It felt more and more like this wouldn’t work, like I couldn’t convince Dean. “What did the Hat say to you?” I asked.

“It said that I had a fighting spirit, and that Gryffindor would be good for me,” he said with a shrug. “And, and, that’s after sitting on me for a bit. But with Sylvester, it didn’t even sit for a second and it sorted him. Like _Draco Malfoy,”_ there was hate in the words, even though I didn’t think Dean had met Draco. Even _I_ wasn’t sure who Draco was. “It must have seen that he was evil off the bat, that’s why it didn’t even have to talk to him.”

I swallowed, feeling a little off kilter because I’d _lost._ I’d thought I could turn Dean so he was Sylvester’s friend again, so Sylvester wouldn’t have to go through that loss, but, if anything, it felt like I’d convinced Dean even more that he was right in stopping his friendship with Sylvester.

“You should stop being friends with him too,” he said, missing what I was feeling. “It’s only a matter of time before he turns you. You and Hermione.”

I sighed. “It was good talking to you, Dean,” I said. “You can go back to talking to your friends.”

He gave me a long look before he shrugged and went to catch up with the others.

***

History of Magic was _so_ boring, listening to the ghost, Professor Binns deliver the subject in the worst way possible. More than one person fell asleep, but Hermione and another girl, Rose Thorburn, were enraptured.

“It’s all so fascinating, isn’t it?” said Hermione. “The History, all the stuff that’s been going on and how much it was still hidden.”

“I wonder what the spread is like on the muggle world,” Rose Thorburn said. “Things this big don’t just stay contained.”

Hermione’s eyes shone. “Maybe we could do that, once we’re done looking for the mermaids.”

“Mermaids?” I said. We all had free time and I was following them, listening more than talking. If I listened to Hermione enough, she’d eventually say something I was interested in and I could then ask questions. She loved it when I asked questions.

“Rose and I are looking for mermaids,” said Hermione.

“My brother has a fondness for them,” Rose explained.

“Blake, right? He’s your brother.”

“You’ve met?”

I nodded. “Sat with him in Herbology. He’s…nice?”

“You don’t have to sugar-coat it if you don’t like him,” she said.

“No. I just don’t know him,” I said with a shrug. “But I think he was better to hang out with than the others. He keeps to himself.”

Rose nodded.

“Anyway, Hermione,” I said. “What do you think about Sylvester being in Slytherin?”

She frowned. “I…I don’t think about it much,” she said. “I don’t like what they did to him and I _am_ going to tell Professor Flitwick about it if Sylvester isn’t going to do it himself.”

“I told her that wouldn’t make things better,” said Rose.

“It really isn’t,” I said. “But,” I said, interrupting her, “that’s not where I wanted to focus. Dean has it in his head that he’s evil. That Sylvester’s evil I mean, and he’s going to stop being friends with him.”

“That’s horrible,” said Hermione.

“Isolation is the worst part of it,” said Rose. “Being bullied.”

“Yeah,” I said, giving her a look. She didn’t sound like someone who’d suffered, but most people took that for granted. “The choice is yours,” I said. “But I’d like it if you didn’t do the same?”

“I’d never,” said Hermione and _she_ sounded like someone who’d suffered. There was anger in her voice, a righteous anger, so much that I thought she might start crying.

 _Good,_ I thought.

The three of us went to the Library for the almost two hours we had before lunch. Hermione and Rose looked for books with everything concerning mermaids while I went to the hexes and jinxes’ section—earning a disapproving scowl from the Librarian—and pulled out a few books. I started reading through, making a note of all the hexes they had and which were the easiest to learn.

There _was_ a Tripping Jinx, which was discomforting to learn, but I still didn’t know if Sylvester had used the jinx. I noted it down, as well as the Full Body-Bind—

“You should look at our Defence textbook,” said Rose. “The explanation there is better.”

I nodded, making a mental note while looking for other jinxes. The Tongue-Tying Jinx, a jinx that caused spasms, one that made a person have a runny nose—this was also in our textbooks—and one that could make a person’s legs dance without the being able to stop.

They were all well and good, a measure to fight back, but what if _I_ or anyone else was hit by one. Which meant I had to go and look through counter-curses and counter-jinxes. I found a general purpose one, Finite Incantatem.

As primary strategies, the Tongue-Tying Jinx and general-purpose counter-spell made the most sense to learn. Anyone hit by the Tongue-Tying Jinx effectively didn’t have magic and from his scrapes, Sylvester had seen enough physical fights that he might be able to get the upper-hand.

Which still wasn’t a solution to the greater problem but it was at least _doing_ something.

When the lunch hour rolled through we went to the Great Hall. I grabbed a lot of pies and other stuff I could put in my bag before I looked for Sylvester. He was fine now, all the spells on him having been reversed or cured, and he, along with everyone else, was crowding around Blake who looked a little uncomfortable with the attention but was smiling.

“What’s going on?” Rose asked when the group had gotten closer. I was sitting with Hermione and Rose on the Ravenclaw table, with everyone too wrapped up in their own thing to really notice.

“Blake’s a transfiguration genius,” said a girl whose name I couldn’t remember, one of the girls from Hufflepuff.

Blake smiled.

“It was _amazing!”_ said Evan. “Professor McGonagall kept putting up challenges and he kept being like _bam,_ done.”

“Matchstick into a needle, _bam,_ done _,”_ said Sylvester. “Matchbox into a figurine, _bam,_ done _._ Change a goblet into an _animal,_ and he did it! Professor McGonagall couldn’t stop beaming, saying,” and his voice changed, his posture changing, even his _accent,_ “Finally. _Finally._ Oh, dear boy, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to find someone like you. I have to go and tell Albus.”

“Oh wow,” said Evan. “That was so cool. How are you doing that?”

Sylvester grinned. “Just something I can do,” he said.

“And no spell or anything?” another boy said. “Can you do me?”

“Can you do me?” Sylvester said, without missing a beat, his posture hadn’t changed but his expression had, his accent and the lilt of his voice.

“That is honestly creepy,” said Rose.

“That is honestly creep,” Sylvester returned, standing as Rose might and with and looking at everyone else like there were a little below her. Rose didn’t do that with Hermione, but I’d caught her doing it with me, and it was even worse with the other first years.

Okay, maybe he wasn’t like me. I’d pushed people away and he was getting them close. He could make friends and maybe that wasn’t worth worrying about.

But he was still being bullied and if I could help him protect himself, it was worth doing. But more than that, this school had a bullying problem.

“Sy,” I said. He looked at me and he looked a little surprised. “Grab some food. I want to show you some stuff.”

“Can I join you too?” said Rose. “If you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

“Um…sure,” I said.

“Me too,” said Evan.

“This is a bad idea,” Hermione muttered under her breath.

“What’s going on?” asked Blake.

“Going to be spending lunch teaching Sylvester some jinxes,” I said. “Anyone’s welcome to join.”

 _Fire with fire,_ I thought. I was effectively giving out offensive spells to anyone that wanted them. There’d be a lot of damage, but it would force one of two things: Either the fires would eat each other out, making Slytherin hesitate when thinking about hexing people, or it’d force other people to act. But at least _something_ would be done.


	10. Chapter 10

**Sylvester**

“I…Don’t…What?”

It was times like these that I missed the others. If they were here, I wouldn’t have to focus on everything. Jamie or Jessie would track details, everything I’d said and Taylor’s reaction, and then told me when ithad happened. Whatever _it_ was.

Now I was left fumbling, trying to piece together a puzzle with blank pieces.

“Can you repeat that?” I said. The two of us were in the lead. All the Hufflepuff boys were with us; with Taylor being the only person from Gryffindor; Hermione and Rose Thorburn the only Ravenclaws; and me, the only Slytherin.

“I’m think I’m pretty good at learning spells,” she said. “Better than Hermione and she’s practically a genius.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Hermione said from behind us, stopping her conversation with Rose before she started it up again. She’d been reiterating how bad an idea this was and was frustrated that it was falling on deaf ears.

“You’re _are_ a genius, Hermione,” said Rose. “I thought you had an eidetic memory with how much you can just retain.”

“Met someone with an eidetic memory,” said Taylor. “Doesn’t really translate to being smart. Which you are.”

“Me too,” I put in, smiling. “And they were smart. Both of them.” It took a bit before Jamie and Jessie’s minds worked, but when they did _,_ it could be incredible.

“Anyway,” said Hermione. “If I am smart, then why aren’t you listening to me? Headmaster Dumbledore specifically said, that Mr Filch said there aren’t to be any spells cast in the halls or after classes.”

“But there was a twinkle in his eye,” said Blake Thorburn, the twin brother of Rose Thorburn. A quick glance at him and I could tell he didn’t want to be here. But between his sister and Evan Matthieu, a boy who felt like he was liked by most of the people he talked to, Blake felt resigned to come along.

I could see that he was with Hermione on this, thinking this was a bad idea, but unlike Hermione, he could read the room well enough to know that the things that got people in trouble were the things that were the most fun to do.

“Yeah! Yeah!” said Evan. “It was like…um…like Padraic when he was being an ass.”

“Who’s Padraic?” one of the Hufflepuff boys asked. Wayne, if I was remembering right.

“An ass,” said Evan.

“But _who_ is he—”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Rose with a tightness in her voice. I glanced back at the others, not only using their voices as markers and there was something there: Rose was standing straighter, she had a natural _poise_ to her, but it was stronger now and I got the sense that she was uncomfortable; she was giving Evan a warning look and though Evan had noticed, he didn’t seem to care. To round it all out, Blake had a conflicted expression. There was a longing, but also a deep relief.

“What matters is the sentiment,” said Rose. “Padraic was mischievous.”

Blake snorted and it was an ugly sound, filled with a degree of animosity.

_Curiouser and curiouser._

I made the mental note to keep an eye on them, _hoping_ that I would remember, but now my focus was on Taylor. She was paying absent attention to the conversation but she was looking around more, looking for _something._

I caught the flicker as she saw it and she went to a portrait of a young boy dozing against a tree on a hill, at the bottom of the hill a herd of sheep were grazing.

“Hello,” she said. The boy opened his eyes, glanced at Taylor and then stretched.

“What’s this about, then?” the boy said, a strong accent on him.

“I’m looking for a room,” she said. “One that’s not used for classes.”

“What’s in it for me?”

She shrugged. “What do you want?”

Which wasn’t the thing to ask. It was better to _tell_ people what they wanted. People didn’t normally know what they wanted and when they were asked, it became a power play. They’d ask for something exorbitant, something they couldn’t be easily given. It was better to manipulate, hammer in something they wanted, something you could give them and work things so they finally agreed.

This boy would want the world.

“To watch,” the boy said. “Watching sheep is boring. Haven’t watched anything fun since some blokes thought it a good idea to fight Peeves.”

Or not. Some people didn’t have _any_ imagination.

“Okay,” said Taylor. She looked at the others. “Can I get help pulling the portrait off?”

 _“Taylor,”_ said Hermione. “This is breaking the rules. You can’t just remove paintings. They’re the property of the school. This is…this is…this is _vandalism._ We could get expelled for this.”

That seemed to have Taylor stop.

Hermione noticed and she continued, “We could get expelled for _all_ of this.”

Which made her stop even more.

 _Why?_ Hadn’t she realised that was always a possibility?

I watched her, seeing her mouth turn into a line, how she looked a little off into space and focus in a way that made me think everything else was background. She turned and looked at me and I caught…sympathy, a guilt maybe, but…why.

_Who are you, Taylor Hebert._

“That’s a risk worth taking,” she said.

“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you,” said Anthony, shaking his head. “But I don’t wanna get expelled. My parents would have a _fit._ First day and I’m sent back? _”_

“Yeah,” said Wayne. “I’m sorry guys. But, I have to agree with Anthony.”

“It’s okay, guys. Really,” said Evan. “See you in our next class?”

The pair nodded then left, glancing back with guilty expressions.

“But don’t tell anyone, okay?” Evan shouted after them. “We don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Okay,” said Wayne. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay!”

“Hermione?” said Taylor. “You could also leave. I don’t think you should, but…”

“Is this because of what happened?” said Hermione. “To Sylvester?”

 _Yes,_ I thought as Taylor gave her a little glance. A piece of the puzzle and with it, things were starting to make more sense. Taylor was guarded because she’d been bullied. The bullying must have been so long-lasting that it shaped her personality. Here, now, she was willing to take the brunt of negative consequences if it meant I wasn’t going to feel what she felt.

But…that wasn’t how it worked. She was eleven and there shouldn’t have been time for any bullying to have that strong a reaction on the person she was. Hermione had been bullied too and she hadn’t really noticed it. She could still be abrasive in how she threw herself into other people’s business, putting her all into making friends, even when it pushed most people away.

“Yeah,” said Taylor.

The others knew what had happened, that I’d been hexed, and they all knew the significance.

Hermione sighed. “No. I’ll stay. But if I get expelled…”

“Don’t worry,” said Blake. “They can’t expel you without expelling us and we’re Thorburns.”

“And I could probably talk to Ms Fray to cause trouble if they did,” I put in.

I smiled, looking a little down with my shoulders hunched. I made myself look pathetic, a little downtrodden, which wasn’t all that hard to conceptualise; pushing that I was being bullied, that it weighed on me, and that it meant a lot that they were sticking with me.

I caught sympathy from Evan and Hermione, but there was only suspicion from Taylor, Rose and Blake.

Which was more interesting. All of them were on their guard in various degrees, but they all seemed to have a sense for social manipulation. With Rose and Blake, it was more overt. I could see as their eyes took me in from head to toe, see how their eyes scrunched a little as something I did reminded them of something else. For Taylor, it was a feeling, she had a sense that something wasn’t right, but, at least from her expression, couldn’t figure it out.

I’d read them wrong, all three of them, which meant…shaking the box. I didn’t know who they were right now because they were comfortable, they didn’t have any reason to show themselves. But if the box was shaken, if they were a little removed from this comfort _…_ but how, especially when I didn’t want to burn bridges?

I mentally shook my head, it wasn’t worth it, better to get a sense of them as they were now, and if things naturally happened, then so be it. But…I couldn’t take the chance that they might be built wrong. There were people like that, people who saw through me even if it didn’t make sense, people who were stubborn and would stand their ground when they believed something. There’d been a mouse like that, there’d also been a boy back at the orphanage. All of them could be like those two and if I played things wrong then I could mess things up.

I was already lucky that Taylor had eased a little, finding common ground with me when it wasn’t something I’d intentionally done. I didn’t want to depend on more of that luck.

“Help me with this?” said Taylor.

“It’ll be enchanted,” said Hermione. “To stop people from pulling them off.”

“It is,” said the boy. “But I know the spell to pull it off. You have to promise not to practice it on me, though.”

“Sure,” Taylor lied. “What is it?”

“Give me a sec,” the boy said. He got to his feet and quickly ran out of the frame, into the neighbouring frame. He got back a second later, carrying a stick the size of a wand. “Okay,” he said. “Here’s the wand motion,” he moved the wand in a squiggly motion and said, “Dispello. Do that and it should come apart.”

“We should practise on him first,” said Taylor.

“What! Why?” said the boy, scrambling back. The sheep at the bottom of the hill bleated, going to edge of the painting and escaping into the painting on the left, a group of old women harrumphed as the sheep ran past disappearing into neighbouring paintings.

“Because this spell could be anything and I don’t trust you,” said Taylor. “You seem like the Oliver Twist or Huckleberry Finn type.”

“Well I never,” said the boy with a cheeky grin.

“From a Latin stand point, it should work,” said Rose. “Dispello, to drive asunder, scatter or disperse.”

“Could be a curse,” said Blake with a shrug. “To drive away, tear two things apart.”

Taylor seemed to agree more with Blake than with Rose. More into who she was, that lack of trust in people she didn’t know. But it was a picture into Blake’s head too. Looking at him and it wasn’t lack of _trust_ as such, but he was expecting the worst?

I felt a giggle coming and I stamped it down, but I couldn’t hold back the smile. A part of me _wished_ that something would happen, that the box would be shaken and I could get more, because the little pieces I was getting now were _interesting,_ but they didn’t fit in this world. The people here, even with a war having just passed, where too soft, the children more than anyone else. These kids, though, they seemed like they’d been through a lot.

“True,” said Rose. “And with our luck, it could be the latter.”

“Practise on him, then?” said Taylor.

“You can practise on my painting, sure,” said the boy. “I’ll be out for a bit,” and with that he hopped out, watching from his neighbour’s painting.

Ten tries and there was a bang and flash of blue light before the portrait dropped off the wall. I was grinning like a madman. Even if I wasn’t as meticulous as the others in my process, I’d been the first to get it down. Hermione was pouting, her arms crossed and her eyes set in a scowl.

“I would have got it with less of a bang,” she said.

I only snickered, which only increased her ire. “Don’t worry about it,” I said with a smile. “In a few seconds I probably won’t be able to do the spell again.”

“How does that work?” asked Evan.

I tapped my head. “My brain’s broken,” I said. “I’m good at learning stuff but I’m bad keeping it. You know how people can’t unlearn to ride a bicycle?” The others nodded. “Well, if I spent a week without riding a bicycle, I’d forget how.”

Blake whistled; Taylor looked like something had been proven right; and Hermione looked at me with so much sympathy that I found it uncomfortable.

“Have you looked for a cure?” said Rose. “There might be a potion that might help you.”

I shook my head. “It’s how my brain is,” I said. “How I’m built. Who I am. I don’t want to change that.”

“But…it’s a mental disorder,” said Rose.

“Rose,” Blake warned, but Rose was frowning.

“What? It is. Something’s a mental disorder if it negatively impacts your life,” she said.

“Sy, do you feel like you’re negatively impacted?” Taylor asked.

I grinned. “Not a bit,” I said. “I _like_ who I am, like how my brain is made even if it sucks sometimes. There are perks, not just downsides.”

“Then that’s that,” said Taylor, a degree of finality in her voice, an _assurance_ that her word would be followed. It was the same sort of confidence she showed when she thought she could beat me up. Something else that didn’t make sense with what I knew about her. If she’d been an older sister, a little older and her parents leaned on her to take care of her younger siblings, then it would make sense. It didn’t make sense for an only child.

 _What the_ hell _are you?_

So many pieces that didn’t make senses. So many things that would make sense if there were other things involved and not _this._

 _This is a world of_ magic, _Sy. Maybe you’re being closed-minded. Maybe you’re limiting the things that could be explaining her behaviour._

_Look at this from another angle and see what makes it make more sense._

“Come on,” she said, picking up the portrait. “Lead us to this room.” The boy had gotten back to his portrait and he pointed.

I thought as we walked: _What are the individual pieces of Taylor?_

She was too guarded, not letting people in and being selective in the _types_ of people she let it. She’d let in Hermione likely because Hermione had been bullied for being smart; Dean had been harder to let in because Dean was generally happy, showing none of the signs of having faced _some_ hardship.

She liked victims, or maybe she understood them on a level. It was likely why she’d suddenly changed her opinion of me, pulling me closer. I’d been victimised by Slytherin House and more than anything, Snape hadn’t helped—I’d missed the importance then, but on looking back, there’d been a reaction to Professor Snape not doing anything after seeing that I’d been hexed.

She was guarded against new people and _selective_ , which meant her bully must have used their relationship with her as part of the bullying. That type of bullying didn’t make sense from children, which meant it _had_ to be from an adult. Not her Mom and Dad, so maybe her grandparents, but then that also didn’t make sense. If it was the grandparents, then that type of damage would have been visible from either her Mom or her Dad. Which it hadn’t. It didn’t make sense that her grandparents would start being abusive on their grandchild than their child. Generally, it would be _easier_ to abuse children that grandchildren, especially if the parents were still alive.

Maybe aunt or uncle? Something Taylor’s parents hadn’t noticed?

“Hey, Taylor,” I said. She looked back. “Do you have any aunts or uncles?”

She frowned. “Why?”

But I already had the answer, there wasn’t that spark of thinking back, either bad or good, only taking in the question. Even if she had a strong control of her thoughts, there should have been _something,_ and its absence was answer enough.

“Never mind,” I said.

She didn’t have her aunts or uncles which ruled out that. So…what?

Someone close? A family-friend?

 _You’re getting to focused on one track,_ I thought to myself. _Think broader. Lose a bit of the detail._

She was guarded, keeping people back. A defence mechanism. She was young and it didn’t make _sense._ That type of emotional damage took a while before it impacted people’s personality to this degree, or it had to be concentrated, ever-present, crushing her every second of every day. It would have to have started when she was very young and even then, it wouldn’t be like _this._

She wouldn’t function like she was now. Instead she wouldn’t trust _period,_ she wouldn’t be selective about it. Being selective showed that at some point she’d established healthy relationships and they’d persisted. It meant she was more comfortable in her process. That or she was very starved for relationships and I didn’t get that.

_So how would this make sense?_

It would make sense if it was something learned. It would make sense if all of this happened when she could notice it. When she could see that _‘opening myself up to people means I get burned.’_ When she could go on to notice that people who are hurt might be better because more than not, they’ll know what it feels like and not make other people feel the same way.

The problem, if I was being honest with myself, was that Taylor was too complex.

“You look like you want to poop,” said Evan. I’d been so focused on my thoughts I hadn’t noticed him sidle beside me.

“I’m thinking,” I said.

“Yeah? About what?”

“Stuff,” I said.

Evan threw a hand around my neck, pulling me close. “If those Slytherin are being jerks, then remember you have friends in Hufflepuff.” He said it and he meant it.

“Yeah, okay,” I said, giving him a smile. He smiled in return.

“We’re here,” said Taylor, opening the door into a dusty classroom with aged wooden desks; there were windows on one side so crusted over with dirt that we couldn’t see through them, and a large map of the world plastered over the back wall. It looked current, but the country names were different than the ones I’d seen when I’d looked over muggle maps.

“Class hasn’t been used for ten years,” the boy in the picture said. “You should be able to do magic here.”

“I know the Locking Charm,” said Rose.

“And between Hermione and I, we know the Levitation Charm. We can clear this place,” said Taylor.

“I’ll help,” said Blake.

“What?” said Evan. “You guys have already been learning magic?”

“Yeah,” said Rose. “You haven’t?”

 _“No,”_ he said. “Dad hid my wand with magic because they thought Mom wouldn’t be able to handle me if I had my wand.”

“You’re Mom’s a Muggle?” I asked.

He gave me a nod, pulling out his wand. “Teach me magic, already. I can’t _believe_ this,” he muttered under his breath.

“We’ve just come from Transfiguration,” said Blake. “You’ve been learning magic.”

“But I want to be able to do a spell like you guys. I didn’t even manage to have my matchstick change colour,” he said. “Come on, teach me already.”

“I’d be more than happy to,” said Hermione. “Come on, Evan.”

The two went off to a corner and I followed because I also didn’t know the spell. Hermione explained the incantation, going through the motion—swish and flick—and then quickly explained the mistake she’d made and that we had to watch out for it. Evan first started with reciting the incantation, then practising his wand motions. I just did it all at once. Three tries and then an explosion as a desk rocketed up to the ceiling, hit and shattered into thousands of pieces.

The boy in the painting let out a raucous bit of laughter that I didn’t appreciate.

“Shut it or I’ll hit you, next,” I muttered. He didn’t stop laughing, which I found more annoying but I didn’t do anything about it because Hermione’d gone pale.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” she said. “Someone will have _heard._ We’ll get suspended.”

“Or we could fix it,” said Taylor.

Hermione looked confused, then looked at her wand before realisation hit. “Oh, right,” she said. She pointed her wand at the shattered desk. “Reparo,” she said and then, as though time was rewound, the desk put itself back together.

“How many spells do you guys know?” said Evan, aghast. “I feel like I’m _so_ behind.”

Just as Taylor was saying, “Let’s make a mental note to learn spells that dull sound,” she said. “It might be smart to move, choose a different place, because if someone—”

The door knob turned and we all stopped.

“We have to hide!” said Hermione, but it was already too late. A flash of light came from the other side door before it flew open. Beyond stood Professor Brown.

“Thank you, sir!” I said, voice breathy. “Some boys locked us in here, and—”

“It’s a lie, Professor,” said the boy in the painting, breaking my stride. “They was causing trouble, they were.” I glanced at the boy who’d now changed his accent. I didn’t know for sure, but at least from Taylor’s scowl, he must have sounded like Oliver Twist or Berry Finn.

“Yes,” said Professor Brown. “They’d have to be if you’re here.”

“It was _awful,_ Professor,” the boy said. “Tearing me off the wall. It was _traumatising.”_

“Now you’re just laying it on thick,” said Professor Brown. He looked up. Taylor, Blake and Rose had levitated desks and they were stuck to the ceiling. “Who did this?”

“I did,” said Blake with a shrug. “Blake Thorburn.”

“I know who you are, Mr Thorburn,” said Professor Brown, and that sent shivers up my spine. There was something wrong and as soon as I paid attention to it, everything else seemed off. How he was standing, how he would hold a look at each of us, with only Hermione spared from this. I didn’t get the sense that he would attack us though. He had his wand in his hand but it was pointed down, held loosely and there wasn’t any tension I could see in his arms.

“Mrs Granger,” he said and Hermione squeaked. Professor Brown held back a smile, a _nostalgic_ smile. “What’s going on here?” There was mirth in his voice as he asked, a falseness in the authority he put in.

“Sir,” I said, but as I spoke no words came out. Okay, I’d been wrong about his ability to attack. It was the wand that put me off. Even with how loosely he held it, he could still deliver spells with speed and accuracy.

“Mrs Granger?” he said.

Hermione was shaking. “We were going to practice magic, sir,” she said. “Please don’t expel us. I’d take detention or suspension—”

“You won’t be expelled,” he said and he was smiling now. He waved his wand in my direction. “Sorry, Mr Lambsbridge, but I knew from looking at you all, Mrs Granger was the only one who was going to tell me the truth.”

“How’d you figure that, sir?” I asked, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of my voice. There was nothing worse than being forced to shut up.

“She was the only one who was _scared,”_ said Professor Brown. He took in a deep breath and then let it out. “Who cast the Levitation Charm? Mrs Granger? I’ve heard from a few Ravenclaws that you’re quiet adept at magic.”

 _A lie._ Did that mean he’d been spying on Hermione?

“It was me, sir,” I said and he seemed surprised by that.

“Is it?” he said, taking me in. “Let’s see it then.” He pointed his wand and one of the desks fell, hitting the ground with a soft thud.

I pointed my wand, swished and flicked while saying, “Wingardium Leviosa.” The table jumped with a bang and crashed into the wall.

Professor Brown hummed, getting closer. “Point your wand again,” he said. I did. “Grip,” he said. “Grip is _more_ than important. If you don’t mind?”

“Um…no, sir,” I said, even if my prey instinct was going off. He took my hand, fixed how I was holding my wand. The hold wasn’t tighter, but it felt like the grip was stronger, less room for the wand to wiggle as I moved it.

“Let’s start things off with the _arm_ moving,” he said, “not the hand, that is to say, not the wrist. Swish and flick.”

He guided my arm along as I said, “Wingardium Leviosa.”

The desk didn’t jump but hovered in the air, getting higher and higher as I directed it with my wand.

“Good on you, Mr Lambsbridge,” said Professor Brown, stepping back. When I looked at him, my prey instinct wasn’t going off, at least as it was pointed to me. But it _was_ in relation to the others.

What was there that I wasn’t seeing?

No time to think about it as there was the sound of footsteps. Professor Brown’s wand flicked and a mist spilled out, spreading into a wall that blocked us from him and the door. It wasn’t a second later that Professor Snape stepped through, suspicion in his eyes and cold loathing almost palpable around him.

He stopped, looking at the room then at Professor Brown.

“Skulking, I see,” he said, the words smooth, _dangerous_ in how assured they were.

Professor Brown smiled. “Not skulking,” he said. “Strutting, maybe, but not skulking.”

“How _alike_ you are to him,” Professor Snape said. “He too had an unparalleled arrogance. But then, you chose his name. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Professor Brown’s smile slipped. He stood straighter. Professor Snape seemed dangerous by default, it was the coldness he carried with him. For Professor Brown, it was different, it was the danger of a dog that’d been riled up, its chain pulled until it was frothing at the mouth, just waiting to be let lose.

“There are a lot I could say,” he said, terse even if he was trying to inject civility. “But I won’t in the hopes that the past won’t repeat itself. Our relationship, and indeed my opinion of you, might be better if you didn’t mention either of them ever again.”

Professor Snape gave Professor Brown the longest look, _searching_ and in that look, I caught a myriad of expressions that made me want to dig deeper before he turned and left. Professor Brown waited a long moment before he jabbed his wand in our direction.

He was smiling but it was false, he was more hollowed out. Even if they’d talked so little, the meeting with Professor Snape must have taken a bit out of him.

_I love this school._

“You hid us,” said Hermione.

Professor Brown waved his hand. “No need to take points away unnecessarily,” he said. “This is dangerous,” he said, “practising magic without supervision, as should be evident from the explosion I heard earlier. So, I’d like you not to do it again. Of course I know that you won’t listen to me, if _my_ behaviour was anything to go by. So an alternative: From six to eight, I’ll avail my time and classroom so you can practise the types of magic you want, provided that you don’t do something like this in future.”

“Do we have a choice?” said Taylor. At a glance, her guard was fully up. She didn’t trust him, not even a bit.

“You have the choice whether to come to my office to practise or not to practise at all,” he said. “But the option to do _this.”_ He shook his head. “Too dangerous. Now, off with you lot. Go outside or something. It’s a beautiful day.”

All of us rushed off, leaving me a little disappointed that we hadn’t practised any good spells.


	11. Chapter 11

**Blake**

_I have friends, I guess._

With how these things usually happened, you never really noticed _when_ someone became your friend, but now that I was looking, maybe this was it. The four of us had found a spot at the pebble filled shore of the Black Lake. Evan, Sylvester and I were near the waters, shoes off and pant legs rolled up, while the girls sat up a little slope with a small tree.

“Hagrid said there was a giant squid, here,” said Evan. He had a few rocks in front of him and he was practising his swish and flick. It had taken a bit, a good few hours before he’d gotten the charm down, but now he seemed like a natural. This was supposed to be much harder, but between all of us magic came easy.

“Should we be so close, then?” said Hermione, which was ironic when she was the one furthest away from the lakeside.

“Hagrid said it was nice,” said Evan. “Wingardium Leviosa.” The rock shot up at an angle, flying until it was well over the water before it dropped. It hit the water with a plunk.

Rose was with Taylor and Hermione, the three of them practising the general counter-spell on rocks that hovered in the air. Sylvester, who was with Evan near the lake, levitating rocks. Sylvester had already succeeded at the spell after almost an hour of practising. Another thirty minutes in and he’d gotten so good at the spell that the flash of light and loud bang had disappeared, as near perfect as the spell could be cast.

“Wonder if it can talk,” said Evan. “We could just ask it.”

“Ask it what?” said Sylvester. The boy was thin, the shortest of all us and had sharp features, keen green eyes that looked like they were looking into my soul every time he looked at me, and that was a lot.

Sylvester was weird. But then I guess we all were in our own ways. Sylvester’s weirdness was the worst because it reminded me of Peter. Every time he said something, or anytime _anyone_ said something, Sylvester would glance at everyone, almost like he was looking at reactions, trying to get a sense of everything. Worst of all, was that he could _act,_ and that just had me on edge.

 _Gotta remember that he’s just some kid,_ I thought to myself. _Karma doesn’t exist here. You’re free. Enjoy this._

I took a breath and let it out. Magic didn’t have a price and I liked that. It was cool and exciting and I could just enjoy it without the baggage.

I stood, stretching a little and went to pick up a set of small pebbles. I pointed my wand and focused, thinking back to my past life and the confidence I’d had back then with glamour. I pictured what I wanted in my mind, not in detail, because I wouldn’t be able to get all the details right, but I held a concept of what I wanted: A bird, a sparrow, the colouring of the feathers being brighter, almost water colour.

Birds were the easiest because I knewbirds, I’d _been_ a bird once upon a time.

I waved the wand, muttering the spell under my breath and tapping each of the pebbles. The transformations started, the colouring of the pebbles changing, feathers starting to appear as the shape of the pebbles warped. As more time passed, birds started to take effect. Five minutes and the transformation was done.

The birds took off, flying around my head while they chirped.

Evan giggled, stopping his rock throwing and coming to the birds. He held out his hand and one of the birds went close, perching on his finger. Sylvester was looking at the birds with distaste.

“Sorry,” he said, “but I don’t like birds.”

Evan and I shot him a look, and I was sure it was the same expression.

“What?” I said, as Evan said, “Birds are _awesome.”_

Sylvester shrugged. “You’re free to believe that,” he said. “Even if you’re wrong,” he muttered, loud enough for us to here.

Evan gasped. “Peck his eyes out, nuggets,” he said and the birds listened, flying in a flurry to Sylvester. There were seven birds in total and Sylvester stumbled back as they flocked him.

He pointed at a rock and waved, “Wingardium Leviosa! Wingardium Leviosa! Wingardium Leviosa!” Rocks started shooting up, almost hitting the birds but they were good at dodging, getting closer and closer.

“Don’t _actually_ peck his eyes out!” I said. The birds got close, shot down and started pecking at Sylvester’s head. He started waving his wand, but it was nothing to the onslaught of the birds, pecking at his head and arms.

“Finite Incantatem!” he said. There was a soft thwip and three of the birds fell out of the sky, becoming pebbles. Sylvester grinned, brandished his wand with more confidence as he said, “Finite Incantatem!” while pointing at the birds.

First day of school and nothing bad had happened. We’d been caught trying to practise jinxes in one of the classroom hours earlier, but Professor Brown had taken to supervising us, which was probably better than us just shooting jinxes at each other and hoping for the best.

I looked at Taylor and had to wonder what the girl had been thinking, teaching eleven-year olds to remove each other’s tongues. And here I’d been starting to think she was smarter than the average child.

_But then you tagged along, didn’t you?_

I pushed the thought away, picking up more pebbles and making them into birds because Sylvester had undone the transfigurations.

“Lapsus!” I heard, there was a flash and a bang. I felt something hit me enough to surprise me a little, having me step back, and that was all that was needed for me to slip, falling on my butt.

Sylvester broke into laughter and Evan joined him, the traitor.

“What was that?” said Taylor said.

Sylvester’s laughter dropped. He frowned looking at her. “The Tripping Jinx,” he said. His frown got deeper. “What’s going on? What did I do?”

“Did you use that spell?” she said. She was standing and a part of me felt that she looked dangerous even if it didn’t make sense. “When we met outside my apartment building?”

There was the flicker of remembering, then he looked down. “Yeah,” he said. “I…I really wanted to talk to you and I thought it’d be creepy if I just showed up, and—”

“You used magic on Muggles?” said Hermione. “That’s against the law.”

Sylvester wasn’t looking at her, though, he was looking at Taylor. I had the sense he was waiting for the worst to happen.

“How did you find out where I lived?” she asked.

“Your Mom said it when she was talking to Dean’s Mom,” he said. “I overhead them. They were talking about the two of you meeting. I didn’t want to tell you back then because you already thought I was creepy and I wanted you to stop, and—”

Taylor held up a hand, stopping Sylvester. She took a breath and slowly let it out. “I get that you want to make friends, but there are things you’re not supposed to do, lines you aren’t supposed to cross. Going to my home without me inviting you is one of them. Using magic on people that can’t defend themselves is another.”

“I…I’m sorry,” he said and he looked a little scared, a building of waiting for the worst to happen.

“It’s okay. We make mistakes and learn from them,” she said. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

Sylvester nodded, giving Taylor a long look. Taylor went back to practising her spell. Evan got close to Sylvester, getting him in a one-armed hug and mussing his hair. Sylvester grinned and it was relieved, he started working to push Even off. Evan didn’t really counter, but he was stronger than Sylvester and it was harder for Sylvester to fight out of the hold.

We stayed there until six, then went to Great Hall for dinner. We spread apart then, going to our tables, which meant it was time for Evan to regale the others about us meeting Professor Brown.

“D’you think he’d mind if we joined?” said Wayne.

Evan shrugged. “You should tag along. We’ll be going there after eating. We didn’t get time to practise last time.”

“The others weren’t mad at us?” said Anthony. He got close, whispering. “Taylor can be really scaring. She looks at people like Dad does, like she’s just disappointed in you.”

“What?” said Evan and we glanced back. Taylor was at the Gryffindor table and she sat alone, a book in front of her and her eyes on it while she ate. She sat so she was surrounded by the older year students, putting her as far away as possible from the louder first and second years.

 _“No,”_ said Evan.

Anthony shrugged. “She scares me a little,” he said simply.

The chatter died down as we ate. Evan kept glancing at the others, watching for any movement and any time it wasn’t there, he looked a little disappointed. Then all at once he brightened. I looked back and was that Taylor had stood, with her standing, Sylvester had stood with Peter following him, there was a grin on Peter as he followed.

Hermione and Rose followed next, and Evan almost _pulled_ me out of my seat to follow the others. We met outside the Great Hall and started towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

“Is this some secret firstie’s club?” Peter asked, grinning like the cat who’d caught the canary.

“Not secret,” said Taylor. “But I guess it sort of is a club.”

“Clubs usually start in the second week,” said Peter. “Seems like you’re a little early.”

Taylor stopped. “Who are you?” she said.

Peter looked at little bothered by that. “This is Peter,” said Evan. Which bothered Peter even more. “Blake’s cousin. Careful about him, he’s good at needling people.”

“I’m getting that,” said Taylor, her voice a little cold. I hadn’t noticed it before, but with Anthony mentioning it, I could get why he’d be scared. There was something about here that just…resonated, but I couldn’t figure it out.

“He’s cool,” said Sylvester and Taylor stopped, looking at him. “He’s the closest thing to a friend in Slytherin.”

A glance at Peter and I could see that this was a lie, but Peter appreciated it. He hadn’t gotten good enough yet at manipulation that he could hide his tells. I looked at Sylvester and there was that _keen_ expression in his eyes as he looked at every one of us.

“Let’s get _going_ already,” said Evan. “Or something else’ll come up and we won’t get to practice.”

“I have to agree with Evan,” said Rose.

“Me too,” said Hermione, smiling. “Now that we won’t get in trouble, I’m a little excited about this.”

“Onward!” said Evan.

Peter, who was still frowning, said, “Is that your catch phrase or something?”

“You think I could get it to become one?” he said.

“Say anything enough and it could,” I put in.

“Or it could be annoying,” said Rose.

“That too,” I admitted.

“I’ll try it out,” said Evan. “See how it fits…Does anyone actually know where the Defence class is? I haven’t gone yet and I haven’t asked.”

“I do,” said Taylor and Peter cut in.

“I’ve been there! I can lead the way,” he said. Taylor frowned as she looked at him, but she shrugged. Peter, of course, had been ignoring her and was already leading the way.

“You guys are _so_ lucky to have this guy. The last Professor didn’t know _anything_ about practical defence magic. Spent most of the year going through the theory and it was _awful.”_

“Why’d he get hired if he was bad at his job?” Taylor asked.

Peter gave her a look, grinning before he said, “Because the Dark Lord put a curse of the Defence position. He wanted the job, Dumbledore said no and he showed Dumbles how powerful he was by casting an abstract curse, it’s so tough even the _Unspeakables_ couldn’t figure it out.”

I sighed. “You know,” I said. “What you just said doesn’t have as much impact as you hoped. Rose, Evan and I don’t care, and the others are Muggle-borns and name-dropping Voldemort—” Peter was the only who flinched, stumbling “—isn’t going to work.”

Peter swallowed, shaken and he looked at everyone else and there wasn’t a reaction.

“And to make things worse,” said Taylor. “It makes your Dark Lord, Voldemort,” Peter flinched again, and I could see Sylvester grinning with the corner of my eye. The moment Peter’s gaze swept towards him, the grin was gone and there was a little shell-shocked expression on him, “sounds like a spoilt child having a fit because he didn’t get what he wanted.”

“Talk—” and he stopped, clearing his throat. “Talk like that could get you killed you know. You and your entire families.”

“Isn’t he dead?” said Evan.

“But he’ll still have followers,” said Sylvester. “Those don’t just disappear because the head guy’s dead. There are people who still believe what they believed and are just waiting for _something_ to give them the go-ahead to go back to killing people.”

“So,” said Taylor, “if I’m hearing you right. You’re saying Voldemort’s followers are just cowards who need someone more powerful as their leader to actually stand for what they believe in?” She looked at Peter and nodded. “Sounds about right.”

“That _wasn’t_ what I was saying,” said Sylvester.

“It’s not wrong, though,” she said.

“No, it isn’t,” he said. When Taylor looked away, Sylvester caught Peter’s eye and gave him an apologetic look. Peter, even if he tried to hide it, looked like he appreciated it.

Sylvester was an actor, but I couldn’t figure out if it was good or bad. He was an orphan from what I’d heard, meaning he’d have to have developed some defence mechanism to survive. What I didn’t know now is if he was still depending on what he knew, trying his best to survive in a shitty environment, or if he was just a manipulator.

 _He is a Muggle-born in Slytherin,_ a part of me thought. _Maybe he knows he needs someone like Peter on his side if he isn’t going to get hexed every night._

Peter was quiet as we walked, the earlier confidence gone because he hadn’t gotten the reaction he wanted. The Peter from our previous life would be using this time to get a sense of everything, being quiet, learning and then attacking when he thought he had everything he needed. This Peter was young and I wasn’t sure yet if all of that had developed, would he be the same Peter I knew then?

On the landing of the third floor we started going down hallway after hallway, all of them shifting between small and big, ‘new’ and on the way to being derelict; some had windows that showed the lake even though my internal sense of direction said we were on the wrong side. We turned into a hallway and Peter stopped. Just after him, Sylvester and Evan did the same, then Taylor whose wand was immediately in her hand; Rose and Hermione turned the corner: Rose’s breath hitched, stepping back—Sylvester’s head snapped in her direction to take this in—and Hermione screamed.

My wand had already been pulled out as I turned the corner.

“Fuck,” I said, which Sylvester didn’t miss going by his grin.

***

I should have known.

I should have _fuckin’_ known.

I should have and…here we were.

I’d let down my guard. I’d started to enjoy this and forgotten that life just didn’t work like that. I was a Thorburn and even when something like _this_ happened, there was still shit on the back-end.

Why had I thought that this would be different?

There was a man in the hall and I just _knew_ he was from the Abyss. He was tall, taller still because I was a short child. He was a warped biker: Large, hairy and wearing all leather. His jaw had been broken and now he wore rusted metal mask that hid his mouth, chains connected with hooks stretched from the mask, winding around the man’s neck and the other end connecting into the flesh of his shoulder. There were more chains and hooks, thick and thin, winding around his arm, over his jacket, around his chest and waists. The largest chain had a grab-hook and he carried it in his hands.

A Bogeyman from the Machine.

“Rose Thorburn,” the Bogeyman drawled and he started swinging the giant hook like a pendulum. There was a hungry look in his eyes, a grin I could see in the slits in the mask. “Your debt is due.”

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said and she stood straighter.

Sylvester started giggling. A little glance and I could see that he was trying to stamp it down but it wasn’t working. Even so, he was moving like a predator, his wand in his hand as he moved perpendicular to the Bogeyman.

“I think you do,” the man said. He moved his chain faster, swinging it higher until the thing finished a loop. He pushed it, moving the chain and hook so fast the air started to sing. “Now, come with me or I’m going to have to _take_ you.”

Peter had moved back and now Taylor was at the front of the group alongside Rose. Evan was close to Hermione who’d stopped screaming, Evan’s hand over her mouth, and the two were taking steps back; looking at Evan, I could see that he was prepared to run. I got closer to the front, the _one_ spell that could be useful in this scenario heavy in my mind. Rose was just stuck, standing, shaking and looking at the Bogeyman.

“I…” Rose said and she glanced back at me, then down at my wand. She swallowed, steeling herself. _“No,”_ she said.

The man threw his hook and Taylor was the first to act.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” she said and the hook and chain flew up, crashing into the ceiling and chipping away at the stone.

“Periculum!” I said and a jet of red light flew out of my wand. The Bogeyman pulled his chain, holding it up to block the bolt of light. The bolt exploded like fireworks, a flash of red light that made me see stars and a crack so loud my ears rang a little. The bogeyman hissed, stumbling back as he tried to blink away the light.

“Lapsus!” Sylvester shouted and the spell missed, going too high. The Bogeyman recovered, starting to pull at his chain.

“Run!” said Evan, pulling Hermione and Peter with him. The three ran, jostling past me and I pointed— “Periculum!” —and the bogeyman brought up his arm. The bolt hit and detonated. The bogeyman had shielded his eyes, but there were burn marks where the sparks had slammed into his skin. He brought down his arm, pulling the chain done as a result.

All of us jumped aside, dodging the hook as it slammed into the middle of the floor. The Bogeyman swung his chain— “Wingardium Leviosa!” —and it rose up into the air, missing me by mere inches. It hit the wall above me and I was caked with the fine dust of broken stone.

“Periculum! Periculum! Periculum! Periculum!”

Four bolts flew out of my wand, each breaking apart into burst of light. I got up, squinting to see the others. Sylvester was up and he was running towards me; Taylor was helping Rose up while they both watched the Bogeyman shaking his head; and I was still pointing my wand.

“Periculum! Periculum! Periculum!”

More flashes of light and sound and the Bogeyman hissed as a burst of light hit him. He stumbled— “Lapsus!” —and he fell back, hitting the ground hard. I heard Sylvester cackling as he turned the corner, running down the hall. Rose and Taylor passed by and that was my cue to run, quickly turning the corner, following the rest of them.

“Help!” said Rose to a painting. “There’s someone—”

“Chain!” a woman in the painting screamed and I let myself fall forward. Both Rose and Taylor did the same. Sylvester was too far and only turned, his wand rising. It was too late. The chain whizzed past and then fell, hitting the ground hard enough to crack it. The Bogeyman pulled, flailing the chain side to side so he wouldn’t miss. Taylor spun out of the way, lucky that she wasn’t hit, but Rose wasn’t that lucky; the hook didn’t catch, but its bulk hit her side as it passed. She squeaked, curling into a ball a little. I turned, spinning out of the way of the hook and pointing my wand.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” I said, focusing on the Bogeyman, wanting to raise him up, and…nothing.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” I heard behind me, Taylor’s voice, and the chain flew up again, missing me and raking across the wall, tearing down a painting. The Bogeyman pulled the chain, swinging it down and I had to jump out of the way because the hook was aimed for _me._

I was too slow and it hit my leg. I lost my balance, feeling a squelch then a sharp pain. I tried to take a step and my leg didn’t hold me up, _broken_.

The Bogeyman broke into a run.

“Periculum!” Taylor screamed as Sylvester and Evan added, “Lapsus!”

Three spells and they all missed as the Bogeyman dodged. There was a detonation from the Sparks Spell, but the Bogeyman wasn’t as affected. A smaller chain unwound from his arm and started spinning. He threw.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” this time it was Rose’s voice. The hook, this one smaller and sharper, lifted but it was too close. I brought up my arms to cover my face, and the hook dragged across my arms, another bout of pain.

All while the Bogeyman got closer.

“Ornias!” said Rose and my heart stopped. The Bogeyman stumbled to a stop. “Ornias!” Rose said again. I looked back at her and she was standing, tears in her eyes and _shaken._ Taylor stood beside her looking confused but not saying anything, her wand pointed at the Bogeyman who was now so close.

“You wouldn’t,” said the Bogeyman said.

“I would,” said Rose. “Ornias.”

“You’d destroy everything?”

“Yes,” said Rose. “Ornias.”

“You’re lying,” the Bogeyman said. “You lied before. You can lie now. It could be you don’t even have your power.”

“Ornias,” said Rose, and her expression was ugly, meeting and keeping the Bogeyman’s gaze.

I wanted to tell her to _stop,_ that this was crazy. But I’d done something like this before and it would be hypocritical. Not to mention that the Bogeyman would get to me in another three or four steps. Sooner if he swung his hook and chain.

The Bogeyman let out a sigh, pulling back his chain. “Not worth it,” he said. “But there’ll be more and they’ll be more reckless.”

The man turned and left.


	12. Chapter 12

**Sylvester**

An entire scuffle and I hadn’t been hurt, which was its own sort of surprising. The memory was foggy, worn by time and the effects of Wyvern, but there was still enough for a smile to start before I stamped it down. Madam Pomfrey stood in front of me, grey-haired and with keen grey eyes. Her entire demeanour reminded me a little of Lillian when she was working, her attention narrowed down and everything else pushed to the background. 

“Mouth open,” she ordered and I did. She shoved her wand towards my open mouth and I felt the tip on my teeth. She tsked. “Some of your teeth are bad.” She pulled out the wand, tapped my cheek and then said, “Accio.” I felt a negative pressure, saw three teeth zoom out and hover to a small pan before landing on it with a clink. She jabbed her wand towards my mouth again and I felt a prickle as new teeth grew.

She quickly moved through another set of spells, her wand-work _incredible_ in how fast and smooth it was. She ended with a flick that closed the curtain around us; another flick and a piece of parchment appeared, writing starting to spread on the page.

“You’re malnourished,” he said. She pointed at the paper. “That’s a diet that’ll help you get a little bigger, a little stronger or maybe a little taller. Of course, we could supplement that with potions, but that’ll only work if you stop using the Wyvern potion.”

My heart would have stopped if I were anyone else, as it was, I only looked confused, scared because of what I’d gone through, visibly shaken. I let myself startle at the words and I caught a flicker of hesitation.

“Wyvern potion?” I said, voice small, eyes starting to water a little.

She scowled. “Either you’re lying, Mr Lambsbridge, or something else is going on,” she said. “Going by who adopted you, if you aren’t lying, then it’s worth telling the authorities that your guardian may be dosing you with a dangerous potion.”

“I…I…” I stopped, breathing a little harder, watching her and seeing her scowl soften. “Please don’t ruin this,” I said, tears starting to form. I _loved_ that in this world even if I looked like a troublemaker people were more forgiving. A lot of the initial ground I’d had to cover before wasn’t there, which made all this much easier. “Please don’t take away Ms Fray. I don’t want to go back to the orphanage, _please.”_

The scowl disappeared, sympathy taking its place. I wanted to grin and remembered I couldn’t, it would be bad for _this_. I was getting better at it even if I slipped sometimes. Madam Pomfrey opened her mouth to say something, to comfort me, but she suddenly stopped, swishing her wand. The curtain opened violently.

She looked towards the door, past the others who were in their own beds, past Hermione who sat next to Taylor, sobbing, and pointed her wand.

“Revilio!” she said, the word an order.

I felt wind rustle through the room before a girl appeared. She was tall, sixth or seventh year, straight, black hair that fell to her shoulders. Wizard fashion still didn’t make a lot of sense to me but my prey instinct said she was dressed well, black robes with green and silver trimmings. It was a pity she ruined it with too red lipstick.

“Ms Ellesmere,” Madam Pomfrey said, her tone dry.

“I’m the press,” Ellesmere said. “I deserve to question them.”

“These children have _just_ been through a traumatic event,” said Madam Pomfrey. Ellesmere smiled a little. She hadn’t been sure, but that was a puzzle piece. I could see her eyes working, biting her upper lip as she thought about how to move forward. “And you want to harangue them with questions?”

“People _deserve_ to know,” the girl said. “The students _deserve_ to know. If there’s something dangerous at Hogwarts—”

“How did you even know they were here?” asked Madam Pomfrey.

Ellesmere froze. She’d done something _very_ bad to get at that information. “I have my sources,” she said.

Madam Pomfrey hummed. “There was the same thing last year,” she said. “When that dog hurt Caspian. I wonder if I’ll have to look at your record.”

I caught the slightest of grins from her before she pulled it back. She _had_ done something, but it wouldn’t be found in her academic records. She’d done something else? She quickly looked around the room, her eyes catching me before she smiled a little. I would be the easiest person to get to, which meant she was from Slytherin House. I hoped I would remember to talk to her, figure her out, or at least prepare things so I could get everything I could from her.

“Go ahead,” she said. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

 _“Out,_ Ms Ellesmere,” said Madam Pomfrey. “Or I’ll hex you out.”

“Sure. Sure,” she said and she left. I was still dealing with making things comfortable in Slytherin. I had the gist of the person Ms Ellesmere might be and I already had a plan in mind at how to work her. Just hoped I didn’t forget it.

Madam Pomphrey hurried away, going to her office, the earlier conversation with me forgotten.

A matter of minutes ago we’d been attacked by a man. I smiled as I thought back, as I remembered everything that had happened: A man had appeared and he knew Rose. Rose had known the man, so had Blake and Evan. The man had attacked and Taylor had been _awesome,_ with a Levitation Charm she’d kept the man at bay; then _Blake_ had been awesome by keeping the man back with the Sparks Spells; and then Rose had said a word and suddenly everything had changed.

“Ornias,” I said.

Blake, Rose and Evan were the ones that reacted. They’d been stuck in thought and they jumped, their eyes on me.

_Everything is a puzzle piece and with how fast you reacted, this is something big._

Blake looked like he wanted to punch me; Rose like she wanted to _kill_ me and herself; and Evan looked like he wanted to explain why what I was doing was wrong and then shout at Rose by the quick glance her way, the twist in his expression and looking pointedly away.

“Sylvester,” said Taylor. She and Hermione were on my row of beds, while all the Thorburns and Evan were on the opposite row of beds. She looked…a little like Evan except there was an undercurrent of confusion. She would chastise me.

“What?” I said, interrupting me. “You—”

“Quiet,” she said and it was an order. I stopped, keeping the smile back.

 _I know a little about you, Taylor Hebert,_ I thought. _You’re fearless. You’re quick on your feet. You’ve_ fought _before. A lot._

“Think back. What just happened?” she said.

“We were attacked and they wanted Rose,” said Peter. He was hiding it well, but he was shaken, close to breaking. It said something about the dynamic that Rose had missed this and that though Blake had noticed, he hadn’t moved to comfort his cousin. “What the fuck for?”

Taylor gave him a long look, brushing Hermione’s hair from her face. She took a breath, slow and deep, thinking, then let it out.

“One thing at a time,” she said and her calm spread. Peter sat back, arms crossed, eyes furtive but looking towards her. Taylor had acted first, stood in the monster’s way even if Rose had been the one to make it go away. Peter saw her as a leader more than anyone else.

Rose was still shaken, attention adrift but sometimes straying towards Blake; Blake was looking at Taylor, watching her and looking for something I couldn’t pin down; and Evan looked like he wanted to hug someone, to hug Blake or Rose, but there was still some anger, some betrayal directed at Rose.

A _lot_ of emotion, all of it barely held back or hidden.

The box had been shaken and I was starting to see who each of these people were.

_Blake and Taylor are fighters, but they work differently. Taylor handles things indirectly while Blake goes head on._

He’d used the Sparks Spell, offensive because those sparks could burn skin, but then he’d quickly adapted when he’d seen that it wasn’t working. While she’d stopped the man from hitting us, targeting his weapon and redirecting it.

_Evan isn’t a fighter, but he has a fighter’s calm._

He’d taken to running as his first move, but all through it he’d been thinking things through. He’d watched the people who looked like they needed the most help and took them out of the situation; and above everything else, he’d been calm enough that I’d been able to _successfully_ teach him the Tripping Jinx.

 _Rose isn’t a fighter, instead she’s a_ rat.

She hadn’t been able to fight, not once taking out her wand to go on the offensive. But the moment she’d been cornered, when it looked like there wouldn’t be a way to win, she’d gone on the attack, pulled out something that scared even the monster. No holds barred.

Hermione and Peter, it was disappointing to note, were just kids where the others were _people._ To think of Taylor, Blake, Rose and Evan as children was a disservice. It was falling into the same trap people had fallen into with the Lambs. They’d looked at us as children and underestimated us.

 _That’s_ why I’d been getting the wrong read, treating them as dewy-eyed children. But when I stopped doing that, treated them as equals, maybe I’d be better.

“Sylvester,” said Taylor. “We were fighting a scary guy. Rose said something, a name, and the scary guy stopped. What does that mean?”

“It means the name was scarier than the guy,” I said, crossing my arms.

She nodded. “So much scarier than the guy that he thought it would destroy _everything,”_ she continued. “What does that mean?”

“I can’t just say it,” I said.

“Don’t _ever_ say it,” said Evan and he couldn’t hide some of his resentment. Rose glanced at Evan, noticed the boy’s frown and she swallowed.

“I…I…He was going to kill Blake,” she said. “And, it was a bluff. Blake did something like that before.”

Evan looked at Blake, his eyes bigger, a bit of anger. Blake looked at Rose as though she’d betrayed him, and Rose looked apologetic, to which Blake grimaced. Blake turned to look at everyone else. When his gaze strayed my way he clamped up.

_A lot of history there._

“Or—”

“Sylvester,” Taylor said and I stopped, looking at her. She wasn’t calm _per se,_ but she was doing her best to keep herself from moving. She reminded me of Gordon when I’d been doing something stupid, when he’d wanted to beat me up. “I had a friend in the States. She liked to know things, even if it was bad, even when it would hurt a lot of people, even when it would hurt her. We found out the best way to stop her was to punch her in the face.”

There was a lie there, but I got the sense that she _would_ punch me if I said the name again.

“You know you’re not the boss of us,” said Peter and I’d been expecting that. Peter liked getting a reaction through tearing things down. A side-effect was a good eye for how things worked, maybe he hadn’t reached his full potential yet, but he was good enough to see how things were laid out here. Taylor was acting as a leader and the rest of us were going along with it. She’d painted herself a target. “I could—”

“Peter,” said Blake. “Stop. _Please?_ This is…” Blake let out a huffed breath. “Don’t tell anyone. Keep that name to yourselves. _Never_ say it even if things look bad.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Something that shouldn’t have been said,” said Evan and he crossed his arms. _“Ever.”_

“Blake would have _died,”_ said Rose. “I had to make it seem like I would pull through.”

“Isn’t that why people were always afraid?” said Evan. “Because…Because a dia—”

“Evan,” Blake warned. Evan stopped, crossing his arms. Rose hugged herself, angling herself so we wouldn’t see her tears. Not scared so much as guilty, self-loathing.

“Do we have to lie when we’re questioned?” said Taylor. Which was a little surprising. Why was that so easy? Why would lying to the staff, maybe law enforcement, be something that she jumped to with as much ease and loaning someone an umbrella.

“That would be for the best,” said Blake.

“Then we need to get our story straight,” said Taylor.

“No,” I said and they looked at me. “That’s not going to work. We don’t know when Madam Pomfrey’s just going to walk through the door and let them question us, not to mention we might forget something and it’ll look suspicious. What’s best now is that we stay together. Taylor, Blake and me are the ones that aren’t panicking. We can answer most of the questions—”

Peter gaped. _“You’re_ put together?” he said. “You were _giggling._ You’re insane.”

The others agreed. Taylor didn’t agree, instead she was sympathetic. I’d said I had a broken brain and she _got_ that. Most of the things I did, it felt, she attributed to my broken brain.

“Sy,” said Blake. He was on his guard, suspicious and he was expecting me to lie, looking out for it. “How good are you at getting people to do what you want?”

I grinned, proud and bright-eyed. _“Very,”_ I said and that surprised him. He sat back, nodding.

“We should listen to him,” he said. “It’s the only plan that makes sense right now. I…I know you don’t have a reason to trust us, especially with the shit that just happened, but… _please,_ it’s better if you don’t tell them the truth.”

“I’ll agree if you tell me _everything_ after,” I said.

“Geminio,” Peter said.

“The basics down,” said Sylvester. “There was a monster and it attacked us. We fended it off as best we could. No mention of it wanting Rose, no mention the O-word?”

“Yeah,” said Blake. “That’s the gist of it.”

“Okay,” I said and I was grinning. “Okay. We can get through this. Just make sure the story is vague if you have to say something. Contradict if you have to. The more jumbled up the story is, the better. Makes us feel panicked.”

***

“What is this?” Taylor asked. She was still on Hermione’s bed and the girl had fallen asleep. Everyone else was still tense, with Peter _wanting_ to go to sleep but fighting against it. With the earlier fear gone, he seemed more excited than ever and he didn’t want to miss anything. I could sympathise with him.

Taylor’s question was directed at Madam Pomfrey who’d levitated thin vials of red liquid in front of each of us.

“Invigoration Draught,” said Madam Pomfrey. “You’ll want to wake poor Ms Granger, too, because even against my better judgement, everyone just wants to talk to you now.”

“We know you did your best, Madam Pomfrey,” said Evan.

“Yeah,” I said, smiling a little. I made sure not to push _glee_ into the smile, but a relief that I wouldn’t be able to conceptualise with words. I took a gulp of the potion and at once I was on alert. The others did the same, Taylor waking Hermione to give her the potion.

She smiled, looking at each of us before she pointed her wand at the door. There was a whoosh and it flew open, revealing Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Brown.

“I’ll remind you, Albus, that these children have been through a _lot_ ,” she said. “Questioning them…”

“Is needed, Poppy,” the man said. He sounded a little tired, a little scared, but I caught the tremor of anger above all of that. “Something attacked my school, my wards…and they can help me find it.”

“There are _spells_ for that,” she said.

“Tracking magic is complicated,” said Professor Brown. “I tried to look for anything I could, but the paintings were destroyed and the impressions they gave me weren’t enough for me to find something.”

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips. She wanted to say anything but she was stumped. She knew she didn’t understand the type of magic and likely had faced people who thought they knew better, here she was reluctant to do the same.

“If the kids say stop, you stop,” she warned.

“Of course, Poppy,” said the Headmaster. Madam Pomfrey strode off to her office. Headmaster took a deep breath, looking at each of us. He was suspicious but it was restrained, he had a similar sort of suspicion that Professor Brown had. He opened his mouth to speak but Taylor interrupted.

“Aren’t our parents supposed to be here?” she said, breaking his stride. She was still hugging Hermione but she was sitting wrong, there was no softness there, only a sharp barb pointed at the Headmaster and Professor Brown. It was…a picture into how she worked. Fighting the monster and she hadn’t been like that. She’d been calm and working through the motions to survive, here she was on her guard and just waitingfor something bad to happen.

“Your parents have been contacted, Ms Hebert,” he said, “and they’ll be here soon with Aurors as escorts.”

“Then we should wait for them,” she said. “Questioning us without parental supervision is against the law.”

“You’d think that,” said Professor Brown, a bit of resentment in his tone. “But no. Aurors can question you without parental supervision. We could too.”

“But this isn’t an inquiry,” said Headmaster Dumbledore. “Only us wanting the facts so we can use them to protect other students.”

“Ms Granger,” said Professor Brown. Hermione’s breath hitched, looking at each of us and freezing. Headmaster Dumbledore didn’t get it, but I could see that Professor Brown did. He knew that Hermione wanted to say something; he knew that she was looking at us and was closing off; and he _knew_ if she said anything it would be a lie.

Taylor scowled, _glared_ in Professor Brown’s direction. The man gave her a long look, but most his attention was on Hermione. He turned away from her and looked at each of us.

“It was a man,” I said. _“He_ was a man and he was wearing leather and had chains all around him.”

“His jaw was also torn off,” said Blake, “and he was wearing a metal mask.”

“And there were hooks in him,” I added, more emotion, my voice quivering. “Cutting into him. He just _attacked._ He threw this big chain at us and Taylor did this spell and the chain missed us. We started running and Blake shot sparks at him and then we kept running he caught up to us because he was fast—”

“Calm down, Mr Lambsbridge,” said the Headmaster.

I was a little surprised he’d said that. I’d been getting into it, breathing harsher, almost in panic, tears filling my eyes and I looked close to breaking into a crying fit. A bit of a glance at the others and they were surprised. I liked it because it was raw emotion. From the Headmaster and Professor Brown’s perspective, all of this would still be in pattern. They’d think the surprise was directed at everything that had happened.

I _hoped_ they were smart enough to play into it, to wrap themselves up in those emotions instead of trying something else.

“Sorry,” I said and at the word broke into a sob. I hid my face, curling a little.

“No, Mr Lambsbridge,” said Headmaster Dumbledore. “You have nothing to apologise for. _None_ of this should have happened.”

“Did he say _why_ he attacked?” Professor Brown asked and the question wasn’t directed at me because his head had turned.

“No, sir,” said Blake. I heard Hermione sniff but it was muffled, very likely burying herself in Taylor but I couldn’t check.

“It’s not a magical creature,” said Professor Brown. “I’ve never heard one like this.”

“It might be,” said Headmaster Dumbledore. “But why they would appear _here_ is unknown. Children,” he said and I looked in his direction. “Your parents will be here within the hour at the latest. But I want you to prepare yourself. If my suspicions are correct, then it means the Department of Mysteries will be here and…well…” He looked at Blake, Rose and Peter.

“Grandmother,” said Blake, a guess.

“Yes, Mr Thorburn,” said the Headmaster. “Your grandmother will be here.”

Each of the Thorburns reacted: Peter swallowing, Rose hugging herself and Blake scowling at the opposite wall.

“What’s going on?” said Taylor. She didn’t sound scared enough, only accusing. “What was he?”

Headmaster Dumbledore looked at Professor Brown, a guilt flickering through his expression before it disappeared. He took a breath.

“As of late, unknown magical creatures have started to appear,” he said. “These unknown magical creatures seem to sprout from buildings and places that have been long abandoned. They don’t often attack wizards and it shouldn’t be possible that they should breach the protections around the school to get here.”

“Unless it’s using a part of the castle that’s been abandoned for a long time,” said Rose, swallowing, looking at Blake. They _knew._ They knew what this was, what was happening. They probably knew more than Dumbledore, certainly more than Professor Brown.

“Excuse me,” said Professor Brown and he left.

“That can’t be possible,” said Taylor as Professor Brown was leaving. “This is a school with kids. I mean I _get_ that it’s a castle, it’s big, but how would any place be abandoned?”

“Hogwarts has _many_ secrets, Ms Hebert,” said Headmaster Dumbledore. “Many rooms which have been barred for one reason or another, many places where there’d once been rooms but now they’ve disappeared. It isn’t out of the question that a room would, for all intents and purposes, be abandoned.” There was a flicker in his eyes. “I wonder if I might have a piece of your hair? It should allow me to get an image of what happened during the attack.”

Which…we didn’t really want and I could see the others thinking the same. My mind was working, trying to find _some_ excuse that would mean that wouldn’t happen but I just couldn’t. I didn’t know magic well enough to—

“Polyjuice!” said Peter. Dumbledore looked in his direction. Peter was grinning, but the moment he saw Dumbledore’s gaze the grin disappeared. He tried to act dour but it didn’t work. All of it was just _obvious._ “You…could use the hair for poly…juice,” said Peter, shrinking with every word.

Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Brown were suspicious. The latter of the two was so suspicious of us that it had been enough to just make my prey instinct go wild. I could see now as Peter spoke that Dumbledore’s suspicion was only crystallising. From this point on, it wasn’t out of the question that he would be watching us.

“Yes, Mr Thorburn, that is a possibility,” said the Headmaster. “I think, at this point, it would be better if we waited for your parents. I’ll leave you until they arrive.”

And he strode out, closing the door behind him.

We waited a few seconds, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to bustle in but she didn’t. Peter grinned.

“We got through it,” he said, chuckling a little.

I shook my head. “He’ll be watching us,” I said. “He was suspicious of us in the first place and we just made things worse. Especially after the Polyjuice thing.”

“What’s Polyjuice anyway?” Taylor asked.

“A potion to change a person into another person by using a hair or a nail or _something,”_ said Peter, his arms crossed, scowling a little as he looked at me. Defensive because he believed it had been a good idea. Which it _was,_ but the delivery was off, the way he’d shrunk had just _told_ Dumbledore that there was something off.

“Tell us about your grandmother,” said Taylor. “Anything we might need to know.”

“If Sy’s right and Dumbledore was suspicious,” said Blake, “then Grandmother might be the same way. If that happens she won’t be as gentle as Dumbledore, she’ll use whatever power she can to get what she wants.”

“I’m sorry,” said Rose. “I…wasn’t thinking. Didn’t think about all of this.”

“That’s the _point_ though,” said Evan. He swallowed. “The monsters. You _never_ use them because they’re always bad.”

Blake looked at us, wanting Evan and Rose to stop but knowing he couldn’t say anything. Evan and Rose were emotional, dealing with whatever was behind the surface in their own ways and just telling them to stop wouldn’t do any good. Maybe, if I tried, I could get them to stop, but every time they fought they were adding pieces to the puzzle, giving me more and more. Long enough and maybe I’d know what they knew.

“She was desperate, Evan,” said Blake. “You know we do stupid things when we’re cornered.”

“A threat only works if the others side _really_ believes you’re going to go through with it,” said Evan. Rose flinched. Blake was frowning, not really understanding. “You wouldn’t have finished it,” he said to Blake. “But she would. She would have gone through with it, tried to deal with the consequences but she would be sending a message for the future.”

He was right. She _would_ have pulled through. She _would_ have done whatever it was even if it was _really_ bad. I felt a grin tugging at my lips and stopped it. I still didn’t know what the hell Ornias was, what they’d do but if they were scary as the three Thorburns believed, it was a big deal that Rose thought she could…call and control something like that.

“I think we need an explanation,” said Taylor.

 _Yes!_ But the door opened— _No_ —letting in parents that rushed into the room, hugging their children. Fray, as she entered, gave me a look, she thought it was my fault. I grinned, eyes momentarily flickering to Rose and she turned, a little surprised. She came to stand by me.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah. Healed, given a diet for malnutrition and Madam Pomfrey seems to think you’re dosing me with a potion.”

“I’ll explain to her the circumstances,” said Ms Fray. “What happened here? They said you were attacked.”

I nodded. “A monster when we were going to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. We got away though. These guys are awesome in a fight.”

“Are they?” she said, smiling a little. “They’re your friends?”

“Yeah. I’d like to think so,” I said with a smile. Shared secrets formed the tightest of bonds. Right now it was unbalanced: We knew Rose, Blake and Evan had secrets, and they knew there was something strange about me with how good I was at manipulation. But the more time we spent together, the better things would be.

“We’ll need help,” I whispered, still watching.

Hermione had moved from Taylor and now was burying herself in her mother. Taylor was tense as she talked to her parents; her Dad looked incensed just beneath the surface and her Mom was lost, wanting to do something but feeling useless. Evan was talking to his parents, introducing them to Blake and Rose; while the twins were contrasts: Rose was seeking strength from her parents while Blake was a little away, closed off, with resentment simmering. Peter had his arms crossed, wanting to look strong but close to breaking down; he was _very_ aware of us and we were the reason he was stopping himself from showing weakness as he talked to his father.

“You’ll sort of know when you have to step in,” I said.

Fray gave me a long look, searching before she nodded.


	13. Chapter 13

**Harry**

_Hubris._

I knew Hogwarts like the back of my hand; I knew about all the shortcuts that lead throughout the castle; the secret passageways leading out of the school grounds; the oddities with certain portraits; walls that lead to locked-off rooms; and any disappearing staircases. I’d learnt spells that made it hard to surprise me. If I wanted to, I could get a sense of anything moving around me and there were a few spells I could hit people with to ensure I always knew where they were, even track them after they’d Disapparated.

In all, I’d overlooked how useful the Marauder’s Map could still be.

“Professor,” said a girl, a prefect. I was at the entrance of the Gryffindor common room, and the entirety of Gryffindor House was staring at me.

Kids had been attacked at Hogwarts. At first I’d thought it was Voldemort going after Hermione, but it seemed that it wasn’t; instead it was some type of magical creature that hadn’t existed in my dimension. After the attack, the kids had been moved to their common rooms by the staff and now they were kept in by their prefects.

“We did a head count and there’s a girl missing,” the prefect continued.

“Ms Hebert,” I said. “She’s fine.” The words were absent, my eyes scanning. There were two heads of red hair, Ron and Percy, but not the twins. “Where are the Weasley twins.”

Percy jumped, quickly looking around. “They should be upstairs, sir,” he said quickly. “They aren’t in trouble, are they?”

“No,” I said, wand out and pointed. A little pull and I felt a bit of resistance. It wasn’t a moment later that the Map flew in, already opened. If they’d opened it, they’d been watching. I caught the Map and started upstairs, the kids scampering to get out of my way.

I hadn’t even reached the bottommost step before I heard one of the twins said, “Okay, who did it…? Professor Brown?”

Fred led the way and George behind him. I pointed my wand at the rest of the students— _Muffliato—_ then said, “You didn’t know I was here, which means you were watching something else.”

“How do you know about the Map?” George asked.

“I knew the Marauders,” I said. Their eyes started to shine and I could see that they would start asking question. “I’ll tell you later, but for now, what were you looking at?”

“We aren’t in trouble?” said George.

“No, Mr Weasley,” I said. “But you _are_ wasting time.”

“There was something strange,” said Fred. “On the Map. It shows everyone’s name and the names of every room, but look here,” he said and he reached for the map. I gave it over and he unfolded it, putting it on the wall and then pointed. “This place wasn’t there before,” and he pointed at a room, for its description there were only question marks.

“Or at least we haven’t ever noticed it before,” added George.

“Did you see anything else? Any people?” I asked.

The twins shook their heads. “Just the hospital wing with the firsties,” said George.

“I’ll be keeping this,” I said. “I’m sure you won’t need it?” There was a slight grin to me. They returned the gesture.

“Just promise to be up to no good, Professor,” said Fred.

I gave them a nod, dispelled the Muffliato spell and then left the common room. It would have been better to explain to the kids what was going on, most of them looked scared even if we hadn’t told them what was going on, but I didn’t have the slightest idea _how_ I’d do that. Better to deal with this, taking away the dangerous element before it hurt anyone else.

I looked the Map over, starting at the hospital wing—the parents had arrived and they were sitting with their children, Madam Pomfrey was in her office—and I found Dumbledore just outside the hospital with three other people: Rosalyn Thorburn; Dervin Boutwell; and Thomas Calvert.

They had stopped, clustered together which meant they might be talking. I turned into a hallway, walked for a bit before stopping in front of a portrait that stretched from the ceiling to the floor. The thing contained a thin old man, bald and with a beard that stretched to the ground, falling and trailing on the floor like Rapunzel’s hair.

“Wake up, you old coot,” I said and the man started, eyes opening and the portrait doing the same. I walked into a cramped passageway that turned, my wand alight as I looked at the map. On the third floor Snape and ten people were there, in formation as they searched through all of the rooms along their hall, with Snape the odd man out in how he walked detached from everyone else.

I reached the end of my passageway and a door on the other end opened. I turned and in the distance I could see them talking, a little tap at my thigh and my senses increased: Rosalyn Thorburn was a regal woman, wearing Unspeakable robes; Dervin Boutwell was a man maybe in his late fifties, and he had on Auror robes; Thomas Calvert was the tallest of the trio, reasonably young and the accents on his robes were odd even if I thought he might be an Auror.

Trying to hear anything gave me only static.

Counter-spells.

They stopped talking as I drew close, with Rosalyn Thorburn looking down on me. I ignored her, instead looking at the Headmaster.

“I found something,” I said. “A room that’s changed.”

“The Map,” said Dumbledore. “It would have been useful when we could still have found the creature.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I forgot.”

Rosalyn sniffed. “And you’re supposed to be the Defence Professor?” she said. “You’ve been slipping, Albus. I worry about my grandchildren’s education.”

“Professor Brown is quite talented, Rose,” said the Headmaster. “Unfortunately, forgetting is part of being human. For now, we can only move forward with the information we have.”

I caught a smile on Rosalyn’s features, a knowing look directed at Dumbledore, but the Headmaster didn’t pay it any attention. If it was important, he would tell me, for now, I only levitated the unfolded Map so everyone would be able to see it.

“This is quite incredible,” said Thomas. “Who made it?”

“People who wouldn’t appreciate me showing it to the authorities,” I said with a small smile. I pointed. “Every room has a name, but this one doesn’t. Instead it has question marks. It might be connected to everything that’s been going on because the Weasley Twins say it’s new, there wasn’t a room there before.”

“That’s the only room that has those?” said Dervin. I nodded. “As good a place as any to start,” he said, “and we might get to see the prowess of your SS, Calvert.”

“They’re primed for it,” said Calvert with an easy smile.

“What about the kids?” I asked. “Did you get anything from them?”

“There’s something they’re hiding,” said Dumbledore. “Likely they were up to mischief.”

“You could have read their minds,” said Rosalyn.

“Which would be a breach of their privacy,” Dumbledore returned. “Something you won’t do, less you want to lose access to my school.”

Rosalyn only tsked.

“Stupid,” Dervin put in. “When they bloody well could have died.”

“Death is hard to conceptualise,” said Dumbledore. “But being in trouble isn’t. I daresay, they might fear getting expelled more than the monster.”

Dervin shook his head. “Thank Merlin I never have to work with children,” he said. “I assume you didn’t get any hair to get a sense of the scene?”

“I did not,” said Dumbledore.

“Then we’ll have to go to this room,” said Dervin. “See if it has anything to offer. It’s unlikely that the kids would have given us anything of worth.”

“Are my children inside?” Rosalyn said, voice a little tight.

“They are,” said Dumbledore.

“Then this will be dealt with shortly,” she said and she strode forward, opening the doors into the hospital wing. “I’ll need hairs, from the children.”

“Hello to you too, Mother,” said one of the men, one of her children. He stood with his wife next to Peter Thorburn.

“Fuck that,” I heard and I had to peek to see who’d said it: Blake Thorburn. The boy looked _pissed._ I caught numerous eyes going in his direction, many affronted.

“Blake,” the boy’s father warned.

“You come here,” the boy continued, ignoring his father, “and you don’t even ask how we’re doing? You just _demand_ like we fucking owe you. Get off your fucking high-horse and remember that you’re dealing with _people,_ grovel sometimes instead of wanting people to bend over backwards to give you what _you_ want.”

“The boy…he must be in shock,” said Evan Matthieu’s father.

Peter’s father snorted but didn’t say anything.

Blake was getting off his bed, face pink and scowl directed at his grandmother, then at his father, _bidding_ him to say anything.

“Blake, you’re hurt,” his mother said.

“I’m fine,” the boy said. “I’m going back to my common room. Rose?”

Rose swallowed and then nodded, getting off her bed.

“You can’t go out there alone,” said their mother. “Whatever attacked you…”

“Isn’t in the halls,” I said.

“Madam Pomfrey can escort the kids who want to return to their common rooms,” said Dumbledore. “Those who want to stay with their parents are welcomed to do so.” He looked at the kids.

“I’m going back,” said Sylvester Lambsbridge. “To the common room, I mean.” The boy looked for all intents and purpose like he didn’t want to, like wanted to be with the woman standing beside him, but he was steeling himself.

“Me too,” said Taylor Hebert. Her parents looked at her, shocked. “I’m okay. I just…want to go to sleep.”

“You could come home with us,” said her father. “I mean, if this place is dangerous…”

“I don’t think this place is dangerous,” she said. “Just…something happened, out of their control, and I can’t blame the school for that.”

Taylor’s father sighed. “That makes sense,” he said. “But I’ll want a full explanation,” he said, looking at the Headmaster. “What happened and what you’re planning to do to make sure this never happens again.”

“Of course,” said Dumbledore. The Headmaster pulled out his wand and a blue-white phoenix flew out, passing through the walls into Madam Pomfrey’s office. She was out a moment later. “Poppy, the kids want to be returned to their common rooms. I wondered if you’d oblige.”

“Of course, Headmaster,” she said. “Who’ll be leaving?”

Sylvester, the twins, Taylor and Evan. It took a bit before Hermione pulled herself away from her mother, going to Taylor and getting into a half-hug. I could see Mrs Granger keeping herself from breaking into tears and instead hugging Mr Granger.

“You won’t be leaving?” Madam Pomfrey said to Peter. The boy was sitting rigid, his father closer now and holding his shoulders. He looked at everyone, scared as his eyes flickered to his grandmother and then his father who stood over him.

Peter’s eyes moved to Sylvester and the two held their gazes before Peter said, “I’d like to go too,” voice close to breaking.

Peter’s father scowled at thin air, but his hand let go of Peter’s shoulder.

As a group, led by Madam Pomfrey the first years walked out, with Taylor giving a long hard look at Thomas as she passed. The man didn’t seem to notice, instead watching the Marauder’s Map.

“I’ll explain to the parents,” said the Headmaster. “While you’ll go investigate the room?”

“Yes,” said Rosalyn. “Lead the way, Professor Brown.”

I nodded and we left, the door to the hospital wing closing behind us. I turned into a shortcut that took us behind the Auror squad that Snape was helping and they reacted the moment we stepped got into the hallway: Those at the back whipped around, heavy shields coming into existence as they took a knee, hidden behind the shields. The Aurors immediately after the shield bearers materialised _guns_ of all things, large things that they had to hold with both hands.

My wand had already moved and finished, calling forth a shield made of blue light, blocking us from the Aurors.

“Perhaps you aren’t so gormless after all,” said Rosalyn.

“Guns?” I said.

“The SS,” said Thomas, grinning. “Squib Squad, even if they aren’t all Squibs. My department.”

“I didn’t know about this,” I said.

“It’s still in the beginning phases,” he said. “This is the first group that’s come out of training. The first time they’ll be tackling something strictly in the Wizarding World. Can’t wait until they prove themselves.”

“Are we quite done?” said Rosalyn. “Let’s move before our only lead disappears.”

My shield flickered out.

“Calvert,” said Thomas to his squad. They hadn’t moved, they still had guns pointed at us, and two of them were still hidden behind their shields. “Three-Eidolon-Trump-Mover-Velocity.”

“Mover-Battery-Othala-Trump-Nine,” a woman said. She was short, petite, black hair and sharp-featured. “Commander.”

“We have a target,” said Thomas. “Possible location. This is Professor Brown and he’ll come along with us.”

“More civilians,” said the woman.

Thomas shook his head, motion for her to stop the argument. “We should be going. Professor,” he said to me.

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah.”

I started forward and found another shortcut that would lead us to the fourth floor, near the room with the question marks. Snape stayed close and he was quiet, a frown on him as he looked at the Map. Without a doubt he knew what it was and that it was connected to my father couldn’t be something he liked. I didn’t say anything, because Snape and I speaking would lead to a fight. Last time, he’d mentioned my chosen name and thankfully it had been eleven-year-olds who’d thought themselves in trouble and hadn’t been able to hold on to those words’ importance. But if something like that slipped _here,_ I didn’t even want to think of what the damage might be.

It didn’t take us long to reach the room and the door was the first sign that something was wrong.

There was water damage, so much that the doors shouldn’t have been standing. There were holes and as I looked, I could see nothing but darkness on the other end. I started to jab my hand forward before Thomas grabbed my wrist.

“Test first, see the spells before even attempting to open it,” I said.

“Yes,” said Thomas. “But it’s best to get behind a shield first.”

I help up a hand, there was a ring on my finger. “It’s enchanted,” I said. “Cost quite the pretty penny to get.”

“Shouldn’t you be able to enchant your own shields as Defence Professor?” said Snape.

“Well I _can,”_ I said. “But it’s not something I specialise in. Better to let a professional handle it.” Rosalyn hummed. I quirked a brow at her.

“I can respect that, Professor Brown,” she said. “Pride is useless if you’re dead. It’s good to be practical above all else. Now, about this. I’ll handle it. I might not be a fighter, but I think of all of us here, I might be the one most knowledgeable in theoretical magic and its applications.”

“Let’s have everyone back for added safety,” said Thomas. “Guns out.”

I stepped back, allowing Rosalyn through, her wand pointed. Once, twice, thrice, she flicked her wand. She jabbed it forward and then slashed it, producing a splash of colour that rolled out and crashed into the door. Another series of jabs, slashes and twirls before she pulled.

There was a bang and a flash of light and the door opened.

There was another _bang,_ more a crack, and this one came with something that had been lunging on the other side being shot back. The creature…no, child, was cat-like. Even shot, he didn’t die, instead curled and landed on all fours, starting to dash into the darkness.

Two spells flew out: A chunk of chains from my wand and a white length of light-rope that sprung out from Thomas’ wand. We both missed because the boy had suddenly been hoisted into the air by an invisible rope.

Snape looked at Thomas and me, not holding back his smirk.

“This wasn’t the creature that attacked the kids,” I said.

“But it’s one of _them_ nonetheless,” said Rosalyn. She waved her wand and a Patronus flew out, a large cat that took off immediately. “This might be an entrance to wherever the creatures appear and disappear to. We’ll need to make sure it doesn’t disappear until the rest of my Unspeakables arrive.”

“It’ll do that?” I asked.

“We’ve captured some of these creatures before,” said Rosalyn, watching the room. She flicked her wand and a ball of light flew out, casting light into the room. It wasn’t a room, instead it was a hallway with bookcases, suits of armour and electric lights interspersed along the ceiling.

“We’ve imprisoned them with magic and they’ve always disappeared,” she continued. “We’ve watched one case and a _hole_ opened underneath the monster and it just dropped into what my underlings called a forest. _Accio_ book,” she finished and one of the books from the book case flew towards us, its pages fluttered open and something jumped out.

It was another monster, thin and skeletal, wearing a well-worn suit that almost fell off the creature with how thin it was. Long, clawed hands swiped as the creature lunged at us, using the momentum of the book to come at us faster.

“Prot—” but it was already too late, one of the members of the SS already had a shield and was taking a knee. There was a flash of light as the monster’s claw caught an invisible shield, red scars left in its wake as it landed bodily on the shield and jumped off. The magical shield disappeared as more of the SS moved forward, guns in hand; there were a series of cracks as they fired into the room, each bullet detonating into a flash of light at a hit.

All of the bullets hit. The monster was agile as it landed on the ground, quickly pushed off, jumping towards the bookcase. It scrambled up, lunged into the air and grabbed the feral kid before ducking into one of the bookcases.

At the same moment Rosalyn’s ball of light winked out, leaving the hallway in oppressive darkness.

“Three Galleons there are a lot _more_ of these things between those books,” Thomas said to me.

“That’d just be giving you money,” I said. “Is this the first of these places you’ve found? Do we know if this is going to spread, or…How is the school going to function if it has—”

The lights on the ceiling came on and there were a group of kids at the end of the hall, eleven or twelve, all of them with scars or wounds visible in the low light. They were screaming and running, a brute as large as Hagrid, with a strange machete and a book for a head lumbering after them.

“Please!” one of the children shouted. “Help! Please!”

I stepped forward, wand raised as spells already running through my mind, and so did Snape. But we were the only ones moving. The SS guy still in front of me, holding his shield hadn’t budged, and the people with guns were still holding them at the ready.

“Why aren’t you helping,” I said, a little desperation in my voice.

“Master-Stranger protocols,” one of the SS people said.

“What the fuck is that?” I said, already sizing them up. Could I take them in a fight? What weapons could they have? There was also Calvert to think about, he was a wizard and would be harder to fight. The children’s clambering feet were getting closer, but the monster had larger strides and it would reach them before they reached us.

“Shoot them down,” said Calvert.

The SS didn’t even question it. They started shooting, stuttering cracks that first hit the ground in front of the children before hitting the first child. Three kids down and the others changed direction, getting into alcoves and hiding; the monster ran _faster_ now, not going after the children but coming after us. The SS turned to shoot at him and he ignored the bullet, ignored the flashes of light, only to stumble as the detonation let out bursts of fire. He threw his machete.

The SS stopped firing and a magical shield flickered up, it still had red scars running across it but they were bigger now, _fiercer_ and they sparked a little. The machete landed, adding more lines into the shield.

“Grenade,” one of the SS said and they threw silver marbles over the SS Auror on the floor, still holding his shield, though the scarred membrane had winked out. They hit the ground, started to bounce and detonated in a series. A flash of light and the SS Auror’s magical shield activated again, catching the force from the explosion before it winked out with a harsh crack.

Another SS Auror was already there with a shield while the one who’d been on the ground got to their feet, materialising their own gun and starting to shoot.

The explosions had worked, the plume of fire had caught the monster’s book-head and the thing was writhing in pain, trying to put the fire out.

The lights in the passage way died out, only the red glow of the monster whose book-head still burned. The fire died and figures scurried in the darkness, starting to attack the large body, carrying off pieces and getting into alcoves and spaces between bookcases.

“The children,” I said, voice hollow, shaken by all of this.

“Are part of this,” said Rosalyn and she sounded unperturbed. “Psychological attack.”

“We might want to close the doors again,” said Thomas. “No one really expected that this would be a combat heavy mission and our weapons aren’t up to snuff.”

Rosalyn sighed. “Dervin?” she said.

“I’ve already sent the message but who knows what Madam Bones will decide,” he said, voice shaky. He was the furthest back of all of us and I was surprised to see he hadn’t pulled out his wand. _The tosser._ “It might be better if this place disappeared.”

Rosalyn hummed. “Let’s close the door,” she said and she sounded a little disappointed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Sylvester**

Madam Pomfrey walked ahead of us, which made things more delicate.

Rose had her arms drawn in, shielding herself from the world; she would look at Evan every few seconds before her expression twisted. She cared a lotabout what he thought or maybe he’d dug into her too much, into a person she didn’t like being? The part of her that she reached for in a crises? She had her wand out, but it wasn’t as comfortably in her hand as it was in Taylor’s. It meant something different.

Blake was _furious,_ absolutely livid. It was directed at his grandmother, but over the course of a few seconds it had spread out to those closest to him. He was angry at his Mom and Dad, angry at his Aunt and Uncle, especially since the latter had tried to keep Peter from leaving with us. Very likely that their family dynamic wasn’t healthy, which gave me a better picture of all of them as a unit. Blake and Rose hadn’t offered Peter a consoling shoulder because it wasn’t how things were in their family.

And _Peter._

I threw my hand over his shoulder, pulling him closer. He stumbled, _freezing_ and then continued forward because of my momentum. It felt like he didn’t want to be in the hug, but he was just too worn to push me away.

“Your grandmother was impressed,” I whispered. Madam Pomfrey glanced back at us without stopping, though I noticed her wand’s subtle point.

Peter stayed quiet, his shoulders drawn in.

I continued, “Your father’s mad, _angry,_ ” I heard Peter swallowed, a sob almost leaving him, “but that doesn’t matter. He’s angry because he couldn’t give your grandmother what she wanted.”

A glance at the others showed they had good poker faces. Taylor was focused on Hermione, speaking softly and telling her that everything would be okay; all while toying with her wand, her eyes flicking to dark corners. Blake was looking ahead, his arms crossed and face pink. The moment I’d talked, he’d slowed a step, directing a bit of attention towards me.

As much as I was reading Peter, I was reading Blake to get a better understanding of everything. Rose was too much of a mess to get anything good to use.

“You’ve given her what she wants,” I said. “Standing _up_ to her. She’s too used to having control. She likes it because it’s a part of her she’s had for a very long time. But she respects the people who push back. I saw it in how she looked at Headmaster Dumbledore. It wasn’t _love,_ but a sort of admiration. There was a flicker of that after Blake swore at her, and I could also see it when you didn’t listen to your father.”

Peter didn’t say anything, still tense.

We turned into a narrow, winding staircase with paintings lining the wall. Madam Pomfrey stopped.

“Hello, dear,” she said to the bottommost painting. It was a chubby girl, eleven or twelve, wearing very frilly clothes. “Could you have a look up the stairs if there’s anyone hiding?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the girl said as she skipped out of her painting. She got back a moment later and said, “It’s all clear.”

“Come along, children,” said Madam Pomfrey.

“Really should have been two people here,” I heard Taylor mutter. “Cover our flanks.”

I filed that away for later.

Right now, Peter was my focus. He and Hermione weren’t like the others. I didn’t get the sense that the others neededto be moulded into their best selves. They’d already achieved that and from the little I’d seen, it was beautiful. Peter and Hermione still needed a little help, though. Taylor would look over Hermione—the girl already looked up to her—but Peter was already a natural manipulator, he’d be better if I helped him along.

Blake was the last of us to climb the stairs. He and Taylor were the fighters, but she was preoccupied with Hermione. It was a small thing, but it made me a little giddy. They hadn’t said anything between themselves and yet it had been decided that Blake would be our flank.

I had to speak softer, now, the narrow space meant Madam Pomfrey would be able to hear us if I was too loud.

“Everything’s a game,” I said. Taylor glanced back at me, her mouth a line. I pushed that back. _Peter’s my focus,_ I thought as I continued, “It just has different rules, different ways to win depending on the situation. Winning for your family means looking better to your grandmother.”

Ahead, Rose gave me a look. Coupled with Peter’s reaction told me I was right.

“So how the game usually plays out is tearing everyone else down,” I said, because it was something I’d known in the abstract but hadn’t put my finger on until I said it. He made sense now, why he was so good as seeing structures and why he _wanted_ to tear them down. It was all practise so he’d be able to do it at home.

“Back there, you were supposed to tear down Blake and Rose,” I said. I stopped when we left the staircase. We started down a large hallway, with suits of armour set in places and tall paintings sleeping on the walls. At the end of the hallway were a set of doors. “You didn’t, and a part of you thinks you’ve failed. You didn’t. You got out ahead because you found out that there’s a new way to play the game.”

Peter gave me a look, brow raised. He wanted the answer but there was a degree of pride from him too. He stayed quiet.

“Not playing,” I said. “Blake and Rose aren’t playing. Blake knows her, knows that he’s losing by confronting her, but he still doesn’t care. It’s why she liked it, that he stood up to him, and it’s why she liked that you stood up to your father.”

Peter swallowed.

Madam Pomfrey had reached a door with a knocker shaped like a beak and she knocked. The beak moved, in a gentle voice saying, “How can it be that a hag might, when coming across two sets of identical Shielding Charms, only be able to move through one of them?”

“Belief plays a part in the spell cast,” said Madam Pomfrey. “For one of the casters, the concept of a hag being a danger might have never occurred to them.”

“Correct,” said the beak and the door opened. There were kids beyond, all of them from Ravenclaw House and all of them just _waiting_ to figure out what had happened.

“Ms. Thorburn. Ms. Granger,” said Madam Pomfrey.

“It’s okay, Hermione,” Taylor whispered. “You’re safe now.”

Hermione took a deep breath, wiping at her eyes as walked forward. Evan quickly stepped close to Rose and whispered something I couldn’t catch. Rose, who’d defaulted to standing straighter, softened, taking Hermione’s hand as the two of them disappeared into their common room.

“Gryffindor Tower next,” said Madam Pomfrey as we started walking.

Peter had pulled himself away from me when I’d stopped talking, biting at his lower lip and sometimes glancing at Blake. There was something he’d realised, something that had been spurred by my words, but since I hadn’t been able to see his face, I didn’t know what it was.

Taylor got close to me and I smiled. She didn’t return the gesture. She was on her guard, her full attention on me. She knew manipulators, but unlike Blake, who had a sense of me, Taylor didn’t really know how to deal with them. I could see her look at Blake, see that she wanted his help, but she couldn’t ask for it.

“Blake,” I said, “Taylor needs your help.”

Taylor squared her shoulders, her guard only getting higher. Blake got closer, Evan along with him. Peter didn’t join us, but he was close enough to hear any conversation we had. Madam Pomfrey only glanced back, saw that we were okay and kept forward.

“What’s going on?” Blake asked.

I shrugged.

“You can tell,” she said, the words slow, almost _forced._ She didn’t trust and she didn’t trust us. She didn’t trust that Blake and I weren’t working together to dupe her. “When he’s lying?”

“I know good liars,” Blake whispered, “and yeah. But that might be a double bluff.”

“Good enough,” said Taylor. “Do you know Alexandria?”

I frowned, shaking my head. She looked at Blake and he shook his head. Taylor nodded.

“What’s that mean?” Blake asked. Which he _shouldn’t_ have. He’d given Taylor a bargaining chip, something that meant she relaxed.

“Tell us everything you know and I’ll tell you,” she said.

“She’s lying,” I said. Taylor shot me a look. She was the one I liked the most, more because I’d liked her first. I didn’t like how tenuous this all was, me wanting her to like me enough that we could be real friends, but also getting a clearer picture of how they all were. It was better to call her out. “If you tell her, she won’t have a reason to tell you anything and anything she tells you will be a lie.”

“I believe that,” said Blake, looking between me and Taylor.

“He’s going to try and lie too,” I said to Taylor, “when he, Rose and Evan tell us what that was about. Evan would be the best person to tell us about everything because he isn’t the best liar.”

Evan looked a little surprised but kept silent. Blake wasn’t as good at hiding his tells as he thought he was, a frown twinging at the corner of his lip before he straightened it. Taylor…appreciated it, even if her guard was still up. She was aware that I didn’t want to ostracise her, that I wanted her on my side and she was questioning if that might be manipulation.

I smiled. “We round each other out,” I said. “I can tell when others are lying and Blake can tell if I’m lying. A perfect group dynamic.”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” said Evan. “That sounds messed up.”

“We also wouldn’t ask each other to lie to Aurors,” Peter whispered, “but here we are.” It’d been too loud and Madam Pomfrey glanced back.

“Let’s talk about this tomorrow?” I said. “We could still get in trouble.”

Everyone went quiet, thinking.

I used the time to put the pieces together, make sure I didn’t forget anything while I thought on the immediate future. Things in Slytherin still weren’t comfortable; I still didn’t have allies and I hadn’t exactly made things better for myself. I’d spent most of the day with the other houses, cementing myself as an outcast. Something I didn’t _want_ to happen. I needed for the smart ones to see that I was playing the game, that I was cunning and ambitious, and I was working towards plots and plans.

We reached Gryffindor Tower, which had a password like Slytherin, but the painting chose to open on seeing Madam Pomfrey. Taylor didn’t go in, though, because, even with her housemates watching she stopped to say: “There is such a thing as Polyjuice potion, which you should know about if you’ve been around here for more than a year. That you would just let anyone in without checking them, without letting them say the password is _extremely_ reckless. Especially after what just happened.”

And with those words, she left a very stricken old woman.

The Hufflepuff common room was next and the five of us were mostly silent, each in our own thoughts. I sort of let my mind drift, letting ideas form and be discarded, considering everyone, what they meant for the future and my place in it. I’d gotten pieces, but the puzzle wasn’t finished. Thankfully there was time to get more as the days passed on.

“Bye, guys,” said Evan. “See you tomorrow.”

I smiled and waved. Peter was still quiet, arms crossed. Thankfully he didn’t look as scared as before.

People were up when we arrived, waiting with hungry expressions.

“Follow my lead,” I whispered to Peter, eyes drifting until I found her. Ms Eldridge. She sat with a boy and another girl, the three of them talking in soft voices, glancing towards us while pretending not to pay attention. “Bye, Madam Pomfrey,” I said turning back to the woman.

She gave me a tired smile before she turned away, the portrait door closing behind her.

People moved, closing in, wanting to tear us apart. I had a sense of the crowd: A hand on Peter’s side and a little push. We moved quickly but not an outright run, it was natural in a way that meant everyone else didn’t trip over themselves to stop up. But there were so many and the avenues were closing.

Peter’s sister was close. She noticed our approach and gave us her full attention. People slowed, stalled by Ellie’s presence.

A lot of people, going by their expressions, weren’t afraid nor did they respect her. But I got the sense that there was resignation. I got a similar sort of feeling from them that I saw from people who’d been too long at war. However Ellie played things, it was a battle of attrition than anything quick and violent.

“Tell her about the thing with your dad,” I whispered to Peter, not sure if he heard me. The focus was on Peter more than me. He stopped and I continued forward, giving myself a few seconds to find space to keep moving.

The closest vultures moved again but I’d already reached Ms Eldridge’s table.

“Sylvester Lambsbridge,” the girl said, as hungry as everyone else but better at hiding it.

“Ms Eldridge,” I returned.

She snorted. “That would have worked better if you actually knew my name,” she said. “What do you want?”

“Sleep, undisturbed,” I said, “and I tell you everything that happened.”

I caught the flicker of her hunger before she hid it. She stood, a hand on my shoulder, pushing me a little.

“Rebecca,” she said. “You don’t mind if I bunk with you tonight?”

Rebecca was the girl she’d been talking to at the table. The girl shook her head.

“Peter!” I said. Everyone had their eyes on me and the shout didn’t help. Peter said something before he jogged to catch up.

“You were attacked,” said Ms Eldridge.

“We’re not saying anything until morning,” I said.

“Not even a hint?” she said, there was humour in her voice. “You know, this could just be a trick so you get free board and aren’t cursed at night.”

“It’s not,” I said. “I know there’ll be consequences if I don’t give you anything good. I just need sleep.”

“Or to get your story straight with the littlest Thorburn,” she said.

“Not the littlest anymore,” said Peter, blushing.

I ignored her. Give her anything and she’ll dig. I didn’t know what she’d find at the end, but I needed this to be controlled. Blake, Rose and Evan were hiding something, and I cared more about their reactions more than Ms Eldridge’s.

We walked down a long hallway, went down a floor and stopped in front of a set of doors.

“My room,” she said. “One of the most secure rooms in Slytherin. I’ve cursed a lot of things so don’t touch them, you’ll only use the bed and the floor. That’s it, okay?”

I nodded. Peter absently did the same.

Ms Eldridge nodded. “First thing tomorrow,” she said.

“Third thing tomorrow,” I put in. She frowned, eyes shining with heat. “Breakfast first, then talking to the others to convince them to talk to you.”

“What if they say no?” she said.

“Then Peter and me’ll just tell you everything without them,” I said with a shrug.

She nodded. “If you cross me,” she said, leaning down, brushing my hair, “those little hexes you were hit with will be a Tickling Charm in comparison.”

“Okay,” I said.

She smiled. “Have a good night’s sleep,” she said and she went back to the common room.

I opened the door, feeling a pang of affront that Ms Eldridge got her own room while I had to sleep with the other boys. I made a mental note to see how I could get my own room.

_Peter._

If I gave him too much time he’d lash out at the closest target. I could take a good lashing, could give one out, too, but that wouldn’t be productive.

As he was looking around, he turned and when he was facing me I said, “How would you like me to teach you how the game is _really_ played?”

***

Peter and I hadn’t slept until well after midnight and I was a little groggy in the morning. Not so groggy that I didn’t notice the littlest Malfoy striding towards me with Crabbe and Goyle at either side.

Draco opened his mouth to speak but he was interrupted. “Hey Draco,” said Peter, almost friendly.

_Lesson one: Break people’s rhythm. Most people aren’t good at thinking on the fly. They plan things out, have a layout in their heads how things will work and the moment it’s broken, they have to backtrack, think things over._

Draco stopped, giving Peter a look, before he smiled. It was a stilted smile, unsure.

“Thorburn,” said Draco, puffing up his chest. His eyes momentarily flickered towards me and I knew I would be the target, but with how he was leaning towards Peter, he wanted to make Peter a part of the conversation.

Draco, when compared to the anomaly that were my future friends, was simple. He had core beliefs of who he was, or at least who he was supposed to be, and would default to them. Here, it was that I was the outcast, and that he was on a better footing if I stayed that way.

“The Mudblood’s decided to hang onto your coattails, then?” he said, grinning.

I let out a sigh, rubbing my eyes and just _exuding_ boredom. “Can we go eat, already?” I said. “It’s too early to deal with his voice.”

Draco blushed and Goyle moved forward.

“Back off,” a voice said. They stopped. It was, as Peter had corrected me, Ms Ellesmere. “Until I get what I want from him, Sylvester’s hands off, okay?”

Draco’s blush got redder.

“Like I said,” I muttered, already moving, “not important.”

Draco’s blush twisted into something ugly. I ignored it. I didn’t think he would attack me, at least not with Ellesmere still so close. But I’d have to watch out for when he retaliated.

Peter walked beside me.

“Why are you teasing him?” Peter asked when we were reasonably alone, walking to the Great Hall. “You told me that you have to have a _reason_ to tear people down, but you’re just doing it. Why?”

“Because people like it,” I said with a shrug. “If you’re really looking, you see that people don’t like Draco. They know he’s important, but they don’t like that, and they like _me_ more when I’m needling him.”

“Okay,” he said. “But what’s that helping? What’s that get you?”

“Gets me a bit of respect,” I said. “Not enough to do anything about it, but I can use that to get more until I have friends.”

“Did you do something like that to me?” said Peter.

“Yeah,” I said, another shrug, carefree.

He frowned. “So you’re manipulating me?”

“I was,” I said with a shrug. “But now I’m being upfront. Laying my cards on the table, giving you the upper hand.”

“Which is also manipulation,” he said.

“That’s another lesson of the game. _Everything_ is manipulation, even if it seems innocent. I help someone and don’t ask for anything, they’re grateful and they’re willing to do more for me than I did for them.”

He frowned as he thought.

“I know that this sounds complicated,” I said. “But you’ve got an eye for it. You’re good at tearing people down, which means you’re good at seeing how they’re built.” I shook my head. “That’s not how to play things though. It’s better to have people working with or _for_ you than have them be enemies, because then you’ll have a better lasting clout. If you don’t, you’ll be like him,” I said, head gesturing in Draco’s direction. “Enemies just _waiting_ for the opportunity to help push you along your downfall.”

There was affront at that, a determination in how he squared his shoulders.

We got into the Great Hall and I scanned, saw how our group sat in the Hufflepuff table. Good choice, because though the Hufflepuffs wanted to know what was going on, they didn’t infringe on anyone’s personal space. They were talking, but even as we got closer, I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“You know all of this stuff,” said Peter. “So do you know what’s up with them?” he asked.

“No,” I said, grinning. “But it’s gonna be fun finding out.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Blake**

Evan sighed. “I was a bit of a jerk to Rose, wasn’t I?” he said.

I’d just finished dressing like I usually did, on my bed with the curtains drawn. In that time the others had cleared out, leaving Evan the only one still in our room. I hadn’t slept well last night; the attack from the monster was still heavy in my mind, and the implications weightier, but the fact that a demon’s name was known by kids was something that had me wake up in a cold sweat.

I could just imagine Sylvester or Peter saying the name as a test, seeing what the big deal was and then the repercussions.

I still didn’t know who Ornias was and what he could do, but whatever the case, the magical radiation would hit harder here when people wouldn’t know how to counter him. Even though this world’s magic seemed to have broader use, I didn’t get the sense it dealt well with the abstractions my world’s magic had.

“You were stressed,” I said, a little aware that I’d paused too long. “We all were.”

Evan took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “It’s just…didn’t think this would happen, y’know? Us having to deal with the stuff from before.”

I shrugged.

I’d been expecting it from day one. Everything had been going too well: our family could stand each other, even if it was a game of one-upmanship; there was no Thorburn karma crap; and no one was after us except in so far as Grandmother had looked like a Voldemort supporter back in the day. Things had been _ripe_ for the carpet to be pulled out from under us.

“But that shouldn’t be an excuse,” said Evan. “It’s just…last time she was like this we ended up binding you.”

“She had Conquest in her head,” I said, pushing back the twisting in my stomach. I felt the betrayal, but it was dulled in a way that reinforced something I knew. Magic from the old world carried over into this one, except it wasn’t as powerful. “She was scared and she leaned into that, but now…she’s _herself…”_

_Scared and powerless, with the stuff she knows useless because she isn’t Awakened._

“What are we going to do with the others?” said Evan. “We can’t just tell them everything.”

“We might not have a choice,” I said. I moved to the foot of my bed, pulling out my schedule and checking over the books I’d need for the day. I didn’t really need to, Dad had bought me a backpack that was bigger on the inside and was magically lightened, but I didn’t like digging through junk to get to what I wanted. “Sylvester. He won’t let us lie to the others.”

“What’s up with him, anyway?” said Evan. “The guy’s…strange. I guess all of them are strange.”

“You noticed too?”

Evan nodded. “When we were against that monster and they were all wrong. How Sylvester was moving, how on the ball Taylor was. Then there’s the lying when we told them to…no normal kids would just do that.”

“Except Peter and I _know_ he’s normal,” I said. I pulled out my wand, spinning it through my fingers. “I’ve spent time with him and no matter how good Peter is at cutting into people, he can’t help leaving clues that he’s clever. He would have let something slip.”

“And he was terrified,” said Evan. “Him and Hermione. That’s why I pulled them away. Even when Rose was scared, I could see that she could still think. I thought she had a plan. Really should have just pulled her with the others, would have saved us all this trouble.”

I took a deep breath and let it out. “We can’t change the past,” I said. “Just gotta focus on what we’re going to do. I don’t think any of them are going to let us breathe. The only reason the two of us can talk is because we’re both in Hufflepuff, but if we try to talk to Rose on the sly…”

“Yeah, that won’t go over so well,” said Evan, biting his lip. “Maybe we should just tell them the truth,” he said with a shrug. “Not all of it, but…enough? It was awful sometimes, but I really liked having to tell the truth when we were still birds.”

I snorted, smiling a little. “There were fewer things to remember,” I said. “A part of me misses being a bird, flying.”

“There are brooms for that,” said Evan.

“But this place doesn’t want first years bringing their brooms. Sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Evan packed his stuff and we left our room, getting into the common room. People wanted to ask us what had happened—I didn’t think anyone really knew except that dinner had been cut short for the night—but most of them were polite enough to wait for _us_ to initiate the conversation. Which we didn’t, and it left things feeling slightly awkward.

Evan and I left as a pair going up to the Grand Hall. We sat, eating our breakfast, and it wasn’t moments later that Rose came to sit with us. She pulled out her wand waved it while saying words I didn’t quite catch. A yellow spray of light shot into the air, spreading like snow around us, disappearing when it hit the ground.

I looked around and people were looking at us. At the staff table I could see reproachful gazes from most that were there, while Professor Flitwick clapped and tried to get the attention of a professor I didn’t know yet. When that didn’t work, he disappeared from behind the staff table.

“Let’s be quick,” said Rose. “I managed to get Hermione to stick with Paige, but since she’s calmed down, she wants to know _everything._ She’s already started reading about Magical Creatures. What are we going to do?”

I frowned, looking around us. A few people sat so close that they should have heard, yet Rose was speaking without reservation.

“What’s the spell?”

“Privacy Charm,” she said. “Focus.”

“We’ve decided on telling them the truth,” said Evan. “But not all of it. Sylvester knows we might lie and he’s _very_ good at knowing when people are lying.”

“We both think they might be like us,” I said. “At least I think so. They’re just too weird, all of them.”

Rose frowned. “They don’t know about magic, though,” she said. “But then, they could have been innocents that were sent here like us. This is all so complicated. I…I think I’m going to Awaken,” she said.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I said. “Even with the magic of this world, we might be innocent. If you Awaken, then if our karma’s still there—”

“I know,” she said, her pace fast. “But we almost died last night. We were _lucky_ to survive—”

“Wouldn’t call it luck,” Evan muttered.

Rose stopped, swallowing. “We were lucky we didn’t get to go _that_ far,” she said. “But…there’s going to be another attack. Even if I’m like this, transplanted here, the Abyss still expects me to work for it. As a Practitioner, I have more room to bargain than as a child who’s learning a whole new magic system.”

 _“Karma,_ Rose,” I said, heat touching my voice. “All the shit that we left behind. This might be you giving the old world a foothold into this one.”

“If you hadn’t noticed, the old world already has a foothold here,” said Rose. “I’m just making sure we—”

She stopped and I followed her gaze. Professor Flitwick had been walking towards us and now he’d finally arrived. He was smiling as he looked at Rose.

“Ms. Thorburn,” he said, voice high pitched with giddy excitement. “When did you learn that charm?”

Rose frowned. “Last night, Professor,” she said. “When I was supposed to be asleep.”

“Excellent. _Excellent_ Charms work,” he said. “I daresay just as your brother seems to be a prodigy in Transfiguration, you might be one in Charms. Five points to Ravenclaw,” he said, pulling out his wand and giving it a flourish. A clear bag filled with candy that shifted different colours appeared, landing on the table in front of us with a thump. “Keep up the good work,” he said and he tottered off.

“Can I?” said Evan.

“Sure,” said Rose absently, watching Professor Flitwick as he walked away.

Evan opened the bag and took one, a large thing the size of a big marble. “This is great,” he said through a mouthful.

I took one, a soft blue piece of candy, and popped it in my mouth. At once I was hit by a strange sense of nostalgia, but what I was nostalgic _for_ I couldn’t really figure out. New dimensions of the nostalgia revealed themselves the longer the candy was in my mouth.

I nodded to Evan, giving him the thumbs up.

 _“Really,”_ said Rose. “This is going on and—”

“Ever notice that we lived most of the last life going from one shitty situation to another?” I said. Rose went quiet. “I’ve been noticing that more and more since we got here, since we got a magic without a price.” I shrugged. “I’ve decided to take time to enjoy the small moments.”

Rose took a deep breath, face red and she let it out. “I’m Awakening,” she said.

“Thought you would,” I told her.

She’d been wanting an excuse to go back to the old life since the beginning and this would serve. It felt like so long ago, now, but after coming back I’d told myself I wouldn’t be pulled into my family’s tempo, the constant bickering and trying to push the other down. That hadn’t worked.

Right now, I wasn’t going to be sucked in.

“What do you think we should, then?” said Rose.

“Magical police are dealing with it. People care. What I’m more worried about is the name the others know. That’s what we should be focusing on, not what the Abyss wants.”

“The Abyss isn’t coming after _you_ though,” said Rose. “It’s coming after me.”

“But I can bet that if you Awaken, I’ll get some of that karma too,” I said. I could see that she’d realised or at least considered it.

“Evan?” said Rose.

“Would it really help if we Awakened?” he said. “You wouldn’t have any magic books, _maybe_ you’d have some of those powers, but…”

“There are potions,” said Rose, “to restore memories. There’s a thing called a Pensieve and a spell that’ll pull memories. There are ways to make sure I’m powerful, and I’ll be using something I understand, something easier than wand magic.”

Evan frowned and then he shook his head. “I don’t think I will,” he said. “I’ve never been a Practitioner and it won’t be any different to me. I like how fun this world’s magic is, that I don’t have to worry about price or being possessed if I lie too much or use too much power or something.”

Rose nodded, her mouth a line. She looked between Evan and me, and I could see that she felt cornered. I didn’t say anything.

“Hermione and Taylor are here,” said Evan. I turned. Hermione was walking in with Taylor and Paige, Taylor talking to Hermione while Paige meandered. There were two boys hanging over Taylor, red-headed twins trying and failing to get Taylor’s attention.

Taylor took Hermione and pulled her towards us. Paige started to follow, stopped and then turned away.

“Game faces,” I said, looking at Taylor more than Hermione. Where Hermione looked like she wasn’t sure about all this, Taylor was impassive, walking forward with confidence, ignoring all the gazes directed at her, especially from the Gryffindor table.

One of the red-headed twins said something to their brother and both grinned.

“How good is this spell of yours?” I asked, because I didn’t think the twins would be able to hold back their curiosity and just let the spell persist.

“I asked a painting for it,” she said. “Asked them about the General-Purpose Counter-Spell. The counter-spell works if you have an idea of what spell has been cast and having some understanding of said spell. I’m hoping that this spell is rare enough that it’ll be hard to dispel.”

“What’ll happen if it dispels?” asked Evan. “Like, how will we know?”

“We’ll feel a cold breeze,” said Rose. The more she spoke, the better she seemed. It wasn’t much but being asked about lore was something she liked. She’d had time to think this through, consider her actions and _that_ was when she was most comfortable.

Taylor and Hermione arrived. I glanced back to Paige who’d gone to the Ravenclaw table. She looked like she _really_ wanted to be here but didn’t have the courage to just walk up to us.

“Morning,” said Hermione, she and Taylor sitting. The latter didn’t say anything, only pulled forward a plate and started to eat.

“Morning, Hermione,” said Evan. “Sleep okay?”

“Yes, thank you,” she said, giving him a small smile.

“You, Taylor?” said Evan.

Taylor didn’t need to say anything to show that she hadn’t slept all that much. “Thomas Calvert,” she said. “Do any of you know that name?”

I wasn’t the only one who was surprised. Shouldn’t she be asking about Ornias? Shouldn’t she be asking about the monster that’d attacked?

“Um…yeah,” said Evan. “My Dad worked with him for a while. They were investigating a bunch of wizards that had started messing with Muggle money.”

“Yeah?” she said.

Evan shrugged. “I don’t remember much,” he said, “but it had to do with buying gold illegally with duplicated money.” He shrugged again.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said through a mouthful, most likely a lie from what Sylvester had said yesterday. She didn’t ask any more questions, continuing to eat.

Sylvester arrived with Peter. He was smiling as he sat. “What are you guys talking about?” said Sylvester.

“Thomas Calvert,” said Rose.

“Why would you be talking about him?” Peter asked.

“Taylor wanted to know,” said Evan.

“Sure it’s not because you want to—”

“Not sure that this is a good place, Sylvester,” Taylor interrupted.

“There’s a spell around the table,” said Sylvester. “Couldn’t hear any of you guys as we were walking in.”

Taylor sat up straight at that. “People might be able to read our lips,” she said. “But it’s a start. When are you guys going to explain what happened?”

Sylvester’s eyes glimmered, looking to Rose, me then Evan.

“When there’s time,” I said. “I have History of Magic now with Sylvester. But I’m free after.”

We pulled out our schedules and compared our free time. All of us first years had a free slot after the first period, but Peter didn’t and he had a free slot on his third. Evan and I would have some free time then, too, but there was Gryffindor and Ravenclaw shared Transfigurations followed by Charms for Ravenclaw and Slytherin. It was decided that it’d just be best if we met at lunch in the room we’d been practising magic yesterday.

That done, Evan, me and Sylvester started making our way to the History of Magic class. I caught Sylvester’s eyes glimmering.

“I won’t say anything to you until class is over,” I said to Sylvester, before the boy could speak. I could see him accepting it as a challenge, but I was used to the power of promises and I wasn’t going to break this one.

“Hello, Sy,” a girl said when we were clear from the Great Hall, surprising us because I hadn’t seen her following us. Using magic to bypass our attention? “Forget something?”

Sylvester slapped his head. “Yeah,” he said, grinning, “and you know I was _just_ thinking about you.” He stopped, looking at me, inviting me to say something. I didn’t.

“What’s going on?” said Evan, and thank him for saying that because I _really_ wanted to know.

The girl standing in front of us was the same girl who’d barged into the hospital wing last night. From context she was a journalist, maybe for the school newspaper?

“This is Ms. Ellesmere,” said Sylvester, “and she’s a prominent reporter for the Pig’s Pen. There’s even word that she’ll be working with Rita Skeeter next year.”

The girl smiled and it was a sharp smile. “You flatter me,” she said. “But there are some places that flattery won’t get you, some things it won’t make me forget. You promised me details and now you’re going off to class. You’re stalling.”

“I haven’t really had time to talk to the others,” said Sylvester. “Still deciding the story we’re going to tell. We have to look _awesome,_ after all,” he said, “can’t mention the guy who wet his pants.”

The girl grinned. “You don’t say,” she said, and from her backpack a notepad and quill shot out, the quill _primed_ to start jotting down.

“We’re going to be late for class,” I said.

“We’ll walk and talk,” said the girl. “Go on.”

“Okay,” said Sylvester. “The scene: Evening and seven kids are walking down a hall. They’ve just been invited by Professor Brown to his classroom for some supervision as they go about learning some spells.”

The quill started jotting it down, not the story, but: _Brown - statutes of clubs (?) Favouritism (?) New club (?)_

“It’s a good day, an exciting day for some more than most because it’s learning _magic._ They’re just talking…”

Sylvester went through the encounter, not mentioning that the monster had been after Rose, but instead sticking to the _action._ Us fighting the monster off and slanting things like we were lucky. Taylor using the Levitation Charm but it sometimes not working, Evan tripping as he tried to pull the others away, me being lucky in catching the monster in the face with sparks before it ran off, and then the professors arriving because they’d been called in by a painting.

“The Headmaster explained it to us that there are new monsters that are appearing,” said Sylvester. I caught the flicker of a grin before it was quickly gone. “That they appear in abandoned places and I’ve heard people think that there are some places in Hogwarts might have these monsters.”

The girl tried to look nonchalant but her quill was _brimming_ with excitement, writing out ‘Auror presence’ in big, bold letters that were underlined five times. She saw this then grabbed her notepad out of the air, she gave Sylvester a suspicious look.

“I’ll be fact-checking,” she said. “If I find out you’ve lied…”

“I haven’t,” said Sylvester and it was so convincing that I might have fallen for it if I hadn’t known the truth.

“You’re scary,” Evan said when the girl had disappeared, turning off into a tapestry and waving her wand. When the thing fluttered, it revealed a passageway that quickly disappeared. Sylvester ran off to the tapestry and touched it, pushed it and there was no give.

He grinned, ignoring the oddity of the wall and turning to a portrait of a young boy standing with his parents.

“We’re all scary,” he said, “in our own special ways. Hey,” he said to the boy. “How’s that work?”

“Let’s be off,” the parents said, their noses turned up and pulling the young boy out of the portrait. Even so, the boy kept looking back at Sylvester at times, a calculating look in his eyes.

Sylvester’s smile was even brighter. “He’ll find me by the end of the day,” he said, confidence in the words.


	16. Chapter 16

**Taylor**

_“You never learned to ask for help when you needed it. I mean, you_ ask _when you approach other groups, and it’s like you’re holding a gun to their heads as you ask, or you ask at a time when it’s hard for them to say no, because all hell’s about to break lose.”_

***

I hadn’t slept well last night because the nightmares were back.

First Dad being Coil and then him kidnapping my Mom and drugging her like he’d done with Dinah, before killing them because I’d breathed wrong as he turned into Scion.

It was…a mess and one that left me terrified. I didn’t have my powers and the only good spells I knew where the Levitation Charm—which didn’t work directly on people—and the Sparks Spell—which hadto be easily defended against.

In essence, I was _screwed._

“Hey, Hebert,” said a voice. It was grating, making me want to pull out my wand and attack. Had I my bugs I would have evaded him, evaded _them,_ but I didn’t have my powers. Now I had to relearn how I fought, integrate magic into that and search for spells that would be useful.

 _Sucks when this is supposed to be my paradise,_ a part of me thought, but that part seemed so naive in retrospect.

“Where you goin’?” another voice said. It sounded like the first; the only way I knew it wasn’t the same voice was because this one was on my left while the other had been on my right.

“Leave me alone, please,” I said, trying and failing to keep the annoyance back. I glanced and I could see them grinning. Red-headed and freckled, so similar it was hard to tell which was which: The Weasley twins.

I’d been attacked last night. A monster had tried to kill a friend, and now the entire school wanted to know what had happened. Where most people kept their distance, empathetic enough that they knew the experience might be traumatic, and I needed time to deal with it all, the Weasley twins didn’t have that much tact.

“You know how to get us to do that,” said one of them.

“Just spill,” the other finished. “What happened last night?”

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and wishing I had my bugs. In this place, they wouldn’t be that odd, just an extension of magic. I would have them attack, keep a perimeter and then walk off in relative peace. But I didn’t, because this entire place wasn’t what I thought it was.

“Okay,” I said. “Then promise to leave me alone.”

“Well,” said one of the twins. “That depends on what you tell us.”

I frowned, scowling and then shook my head. “Then fuck that,” I said, shrugging. “I’ve dealt with annoying people before and short of doing something that actually hurts me, I could just shut up and never tell you anything. You’re not the one with the leverage here.”

“I don’t know, Georgie,” said the other. “I think we can be _pretty_ annoying.”

“Quite agreed, Freddie,” Georgie said. He looked at his brother, grinning from ear to ear. “Careful there, firstie, or we might take that as a challenge.”

“What’s going on here?” said a voice, as smooth as silk. The twins stopped at once, glancing back. I hated it, that I was surprised as Professor Snape came up behind us, black robes billowing even though he wasn’t walking that fast.

“Oh nothing, Professor,” said Freddie.

“Yeah,” said Georgie. “Just showing the first year around. Right, Hebert?”

Professor Snape quirked up a brow.

“They’re lying. They were being annoying, Professor,” I said. “They wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Professor Snape gave me a look, smiling a little. I ignored the Weasley twins, who looked at me with utmost betrayal.

“Ten points from Gryffindor,” he said, “for each of you, keeping the first year from…whatever she was doing. And detention, for lying to me. I’ll see you at six this evening in my classroom. Now be off.”

I was smirking as the twins gave me a scowl. They walked off, turning their scowls towards Snape when he couldn’t see them.

“Five more points for the scowls,” he said without turning, his eyes on me. The twins walked faster, turning a corner. “Ms Hebert,” he said. “You were attacked last night and now you’re off on your own. One would expect you’d be terrified.”

I shrugged. “I’m a Gryffindor, Professor. I’m supposed to be brave, right?”

“The line between bravery and stupidity is quite thin,” he said. “It was luck that had you survive last night—and yet here you are, pushing it.”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t like him because of what he’d let happened to Sylvester, and I also didn’t like him because of what I’d heard about him from other students. He was supposed to be a very petty man, one who shouldn’t have been a teacher for how much he hated children.

“Where are you off to?” he asked.

“The Headmaster’s office,” I said. “I wanted to talk to him.”

“About?”

“Something personal,” I said.

“Something personal?” he said. “And you don’t think that would be better discussed with your Head of House?”

“No,” I said.

He gave me a long look, silent before he said, “Do you even know where the Headmaster’s office is?”

I didn’t, but it would be easy to ask one of the paintings to tell me. It was pretty much how I got around Hogwarts. Something in my expression must have given it away because he snorted, muttering something I didn’t catch under his breath.

“I’ll escort you,” he said and he walked off before I could say anything. I had no choice but to follow.

When all of this had started, I’d thought that this was some power at work. The last thing I remembered where bullets to the head after talking to Contessa. It wasn’t out of the question that this was all some ploy to keep me out of the picture, giving me everything I’d ever wanted so I didn’t fight it, so I stayed placid.

But I should have known that that wasn’t the truth. I’d come into a magic school and just the next day there’d been bullying, bullying made worse by the fact the administration hadn’t done anything about it, and then I’d almost died at the hands of a monster. Now, worst of all, there was Coil, the only person I knew from Earth Bet who wasn’t a family member.

All these elements that didn’t fit in a paradise.

Snape and I reached a gargoyle not too long after our walk and he said a password, though the words were lost to me. I felt a little happier seeing this level of security. The Fat Lady had let someone through who _looked_ like a teacher without any secondary confirmation and it was still something that grated.

We climbed up a moving staircase and then onto a landing, a door opened as we got close. The Headmaster’s office was full in a way that reminded me of Tecton’s lab. There were things on every surface and the sense that everything was in the right place even if it looked like a jumbled mess. The man himself was seated in a large chair behind a heavy desk, looking up from a silver bowl with a misty image of a hallway lined with books on either side.

“Severus,” he said with a smile, “and you’ve brought Ms Hebert with you.” The image dropped into the bowl as he spoke.

“She wanted an audience,” said Snape.

“Did you?” said the Headmaster, a twinkle in his eyes.

“In private,” I said.

He nodded, looking at Snape. “Severus, if you would?”

“Of course, Headmaster,” the man said and he strode off.

“Please,” said Dumbledore. “Have a seat.” I did. “Sherbet Lemon?”

“No. Thank you.”

This was the point where I was supposed to say something. But I didn’t. Dumbledore was supposed to be the most powerful wizard alive. Even though he was a Headmaster, had a lot of influence in how things were run in the Wizarding World. He was the _perfect_ person to ask for help, yet here I was, looking at him and seeing the Triumvirate, seeing all of the shady stuff they’d done with Cauldron, with the Case Fifty-Threes.

So silence stretched between us, with the Headmaster staying silent, which was its own sort of disconcerting because I couldn’t frame it. What was he thinking right now that he was comfortable with _this,_ with not digging why a student would seek him out?

_“Let’s just say you make a decision yourself, and then you use others to get help carrying it out. That’s not really asking for help, is it?”_

“I need help,” I said, a leap of faith.

Dumbledore could be evil. He could be involved in something like Cauldron. He might not want to help me at all. But that was the risk. I didn’t have any leverage and I didn’t know the person he was enough to appeal to his better nature. There was no gun I could put to his head.

He waited.

I took a breath, trying to find a way of making what I was going to say easier and not really finding it. Better to just jump into it.

“I think a man named Thomas Calvert might try to kill me,” I said.

“Quite the claim,” he said. The twinkle was gone. He sat forward, looking instantly older. But I could hear that bit of doubt. “Why do you believe this?”

This was the complicated bit. “It’s complicated,” I said.

He took a breath, sitting a bit back and nodded. “These things often are,” he said, “but it helps when we break them down, reduce them into simpler components. Of course, much may be missed through the simplification, but it is the first step.”

“It’s complicated in the sense that it’s hard to believe,” I said. “Saying it would be easy.”

“Try me, Ms Hebert,” he said. “I’ll keep an open mind.”

“I…I’ve been reincarnated,” I said, boiling it down to something that made sense.

“Into a younger self,” said the Headmaster, “with the younger self’s memories assimilated. Giving you some knowledge of this world without having lived in it.”

I frowned. “Yeah. Does this happen a lot here?”

“No,” said the Headmaster. “Only once, at least to my knowledge, perhaps twice. You would be the third. _Incredible_.”

“Is that person Tom Calvert?”

“No,” said the Headmaster. “You think he might be like you?”

“He might,” I said, “which is why I need your help. In my…reality, he wasn’t a good person. It wasn’t like this place, there was no magic but there were powers, people with abilities that could be like magic except more specialised. He had a power and how he used it wasn’t good.”

The Headmaster frowned. “Thomas is a good man,” he said, “at least from what I’ve seen. He is one of the reasons the death toll during the last war was so low. Using contacts in the Muggle world to hide people Voldemort was after.”

“But that’s his thing,” I said. “What he also did that where I’m from. He had two personas. One was Tom Calvert, a person that regularly worked with the heroes, and the other was Coil, a criminal mastermind. It’s all an act.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “But I would be remiss if I only believed your side of the story.”

 _Which is how it usually goes, doesn’t it?_ I’d tell a teacher that something was wrong and they’d ask the other person’s side of the story. The other person would be more popular, would have a better relationship with the teacher and things wouldn’t turn out so well for me. Worse of all, I’d be the snitch and that would have social repercussions.

“I’ll speak to Thomas, while making arrangements to have your parents protected, you should be safe enough while at Hogwarts and…” He pulled out his wand and a blue bird flew out, flying through the walls as it left the room.

It wasn’t a moment later that a buck appeared and said, “Sure.”

“I’ll have you talk to Professor Brown,” he said. “He’s the other person I mentioned, the one who is in a similar situation to yours. Between the both of you, we might find the dimensions to this new phenomenon. If I might as well, Ms Hebert, have access to your memories of your old world? I’ll ask the same from Thomas, seeing if he provides all of his memories unaltered, to get a better sense of the facts.”

The Headmaster’s voice was calm, but I got the sense he was excited about all this.

I shook my head. “I don’t even know how to do that,” I said.

“Quite an easy process,” he said. “Just hold what you want to give me in your mind, not the specifics but the sense of it and I’ll do the rest.”

 _Coil is bad,_ I thought, _hiding stuff only helps him._

“Sure,” I said. It would be painting me in a negative light, the things that I’d done, but I didn’t really care if it meant a greater chance of Coil being watched. I thought to my past life, of being Skitter and I held on to those memories. I nodded. Dumbledore stabbed his wand forward and pulled; something wispy flew out from my forehead, drifting forward and stopping in front of Dumbledore.

He waved his wand again and a vial materialised; with another point he pulled out more blue stuff from his silver bowl, sending _that_ into the vial while the blue stuff he’d pulled from me he let drop in. He tapped the bowl and an image spilled up, I saw myself in Skitter’s armour, in the foetal position while Bitch’s dogs attacked Lung in the background.

***

_Thomas Calvert — Muggle-born._

After giving Dumbledore the memories, I’d ask for some books I could read that would tell me about him and he’d acquiesced. Now I sat with Rose and Hermione, all of us doing our own reading.

Rose was reading about spells and potions that had to do with memory, while Hermione had pulled up a book on magical creatures. Most of my reading was newspaper snippets as well as a chapter of a study on the training of Hit Wizards, at some point he’d introduced new training methods and used the clout of Auror Alastor Moody to get them implemented.

Tom had been sorted into Ravenclaw in his first year of Hogwarts, and it hadn’t been a surprise at all when he’d revealed himself to be a prodigy. He’d held a bit of talent in all forms of magic, but had excelled in particular in Defence Against the Dark Arts and he hadn’t been too shabby in Charms. In Hogwarts, he’d been instrumental in the reestablishment of the Duelling Club and then the formation of the Battle Club, a club he’d had success in sending to the Americas and had thus been instrumental in starting its world league.

After Hogwarts, he’d gone into Magical Law Enforcement, turning his intellect to taking down dark wizards and magical beings—he’d even been part of an international team who’d fought a coven of vampires who’d successfully taken over a country. Then he’d shifted focus: there’d been a wizard or a group of wizards who’d started messing with the Muggle economy, and Tom had worked with the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Department, successfully finding the perpetrator and making laws that made something like this harder to do in the future.

From one success, a shift and then another, he shifted again, this time appealing to Minister of Magic to give him a budget to train Squibs and people who’d married into magic to use enchanted weapons and serve as Aurors. This request had been denied—it was unsaid, but the implication was that the idea was ridiculous because non-magical people couldn’t do anything, not even protect their own money—and he’d chosen to invest money he’d inherited from his parents into the venture.

I stopped at that, because Tom’s parents had had enough money that he could do something like this?

I jotted that down in my notepad, while I continued to read about the man: the squad in the press was called the Squib Squad, a name usually used with derision but one I caught Tom leaning more and more into with each interview. Even so, his squad hadn’t been realised yet, and many had dismissed it, and by extension Tom, a failure.

“That’s time,” said Hermione. I looked up. “We have Transfiguration, Charms and then lunch.”

Professor McGonagall quickly started the class after all of us were in, first giving a warning about the serious nature of Transfiguration and telling us she would brook no foolishness before moving onto the lesson.

“Magic, more than anything, is about what you believe,” she said, “what you can _will_ into existence. But where other forms of magic have been, over the years, worked on so people without the required will can rely on incantations, Transfiguration isn’t so kind. Here, you have to picture quite firmly want you want, imagine its dimensions and then _will_ them into existence. We’ll therefore start you off with something simple.”

She waved her wand and in front of each of us appeared a matchstick.

“For your first lesson, you will be turning this matchstick into a needle without the use of incantations.”

Rose, sitting over Hermione to my left, raised her hand.

“Yes, Ms Thorburn,” said Professor McGonagall.

“I saw Blake transfiguring birds,” she said, “and he used an incantation. Can I ask why he would use an incantation while you’re teaching us to transfigure something without one?”

Professor McGonagall, who’d brightened at the mention of Blake, said, “Incantations are used to make the process easier. Most of them take away the need for you to invoke certain feelings within yourself to achieve the effect of the spell. With Transfiguration, however, invoking a certain picture in mind is the most essential thing and no incantation can take the place of that. The first lesson, therefore, should be teaching you to invoke the nature of what you want, even if it is the hardest lesson to be learnt.”

Rose nodded a little then turned to the matchstick in front of her.

I raised my hand.

“Ms Hebert.”

“Can I get a needle?” I said. “Feeling a needle will help invoke it, right?”

“It will,” she said, smiling a little. “A point to Gryffindor.”

Others asked after that, but even so, most of us didn’t get our matchstick to change. By the end of class, Hermione had managed to change the colour of hers, while Rose had changed the shape of hers, and I’d made mine colder and heavier. Seamus Finnigan, my housemate, had blown his up three times and still hadn’t managed to change it.

I had another free period after that while Hermione, Rose and Sylvester would be in Charms. Only fifty minutes before lunch and everything was dealt with.

“I know we’re not supposed to,” said Blake, “but I’m up for learning spells to fight if you are.”

“Yeah,” I said, because Coil had gotten an early start and he’d used it well. Dumbledore had said he was going to protect me, but it wouldn’t do me any good to put all of my eggs in one basket.

***

“I’ve locked the door,” said Rose, “and I’ve made sure we aren’t heard.”

“Good thing because we were followed,” said Sylvester, he grinned at the painting of the Boy on the Hill. The boy on the hill frowned at us, doing his best to listen to our conversation even if it wasn’t working. Rose had put up a spell to make us the hide what we said and I’d taken other countermeasures.

The seven of us were sitting in a circle, so close to each other that it was uncomfortable. I’d come up with the idea, remembering the girl who’d walked into the hospital wing invisible last night. Rose, when she’d cast her spell to make us unheard, had made sure to keep things tight, the effect so close that our backs threatened to be out of it. This made sure that someone invisible wouldn’t be able to use empty space to get close and hear our conversation.

“Do you know who?” said Blake.

“No,” said Sylvester, then, “What’s that mean?”

“What’s what mean?” said Blake.

“The look,” he said. I frowned because I hadn’t seen a look. “Rose was saying ‘this proves my point’ with a look. What point did she make?”

“How?” said Peter, Blake’s cousin, but he wasn’t my focus. I was watching Evan, remembering what Sylvester had said. He was right, there _was_ something there. It was terrifying in a way that still made me think that Sylvester had a thinker power, but, apparently, he might not because he didn’t know Alexandria.

“Pay attention to faces,” said Sylvester. “Rose is trying to hide it but if you pay attention to the corner of her lips, you’ll see their stretched tight. _Now,_ look at her eyes and how they’re shifting a little. Pay attention to body language, watch how rigid it is and you’ll sort of feel that it’s forced—”

“Stop,” said Rose. _“Please.”_

“Sorry,” he said, though he sounded anything but. “Just…we’re friends, so it makes sense that you know me, that you be suspicious if you want to. So I’m telling you guys everything. I’m good at getting people to do what I want—mostly it’s through beating me up, but, yeah,” he said with a shrug.

 _At least he’s being honest about it,_ a part of me thought, _which could also be manipulation._

New information and I wasn’t sure what I felt about it or him. Had he manipulated everything to make sure that I liked him? But then, why would he do that? And how could he be that good when he was just a kid?

“Also, giving out a secret makes it easier for other people to give out their secrets,” he added.

 _Now_ that’s _manipulation, turning my attention back to everything else._ But I couldn’t help but focus on Rose, Evan and Blake. We’d been attacked, but really, the monster had been after Rose. Then she’d wanted us to lie and we did, not telling Aurors that the monster had been after her.

“Okay,” said Evan. “Long story short: Me, Blake and Rose have been reincarnated.”

Sylvester brightened, letting out and then stamping down a snort.

“Me too,” he said, and I didn’t miss that his eyes had stopped at me, “and Taylor.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Taylor**

_Why am I surprised?_

“Reincarnation isn’t a thing,” said Peter.

_Professor Brown is like me. Coil is like me. Why does this surprise me? Why is this different?_

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” said Evan. “But… _magic.”_

“No, but, there are things that magic can’t do,” said Peter. “It can’t bring people back to life. Not at all. Reincarnation is just a thing Muggles stupidly believe in.”

“Muggle beliefs aren’t stupid,” Hermione put in, voice soft.

Peter snorted.

My mind was abuzz, grasping at thoughts and not really settling. I felt both surprised and unsurprised. A part of my mind felt like it had known, that all I need was there and I just needed to put it together; but a bigger part of me was caught off guard.

My eyes darted over everyone and shivers ran up and down my spine. I could see them now: I’d been dismissing Sylvester a little, thinking he was just a kid with boundary issues and maybe I could help him make friends. But no, he was an adult in a kid’s body. He didn’t have boundary issues, just—

_That’s now how these things work,_ a part of me countered. _His issues don’t just disappear because he’s older._

But I couldn’t help wondering why he’d want to have friends my age. People who wanted to be friends with eleven-year-olds almost always didn’t have good intentions.

My eyes stopped on Hermione. _My_ friend.

I took a deep breath, slowly letting it out.

Blake and Rose made a little sense to me. Both of them were a little distance, both them didn’t have friends because it just didn’t feel right being friends with children. Evan and Sylvester were the odd ones in all of this. Wrapping themselves up in being kids. That part unnerved me even if I couldn’t put my finger on why.

Another breath, slowly in and out.

“You don’t know about Alexandria,” I said, a thought finally settling. I focused on Sylvester because of all of them, he was the one that unnerved me the most. “Or was that a lie?”

“Really have no idea who that is,” he said. A little glance at Blake and he gave a small nod. Did I even trust Blake as a validity check? He and Sylvester could be working together to do…

Another thought connected: I’d thought this was my paradise, given to me by the people who didn’t want me in the real world, but that would mean it would double as a prison. Maybe all of them were bad guys, locked in here because Scion had devastated Earth Bet, and the Birdcage couldn’t be used to keep in the worst of the worst.

But that didn’t make sense, there was just too much of this that didn’t make sense and for some reason it was hitting me harder now than finding out about Professor Brown.

“Which Earth do you come from?” I asked, there was an edge to my voice, one I hoped the others had missed.

“You say that like there are a lot of earths,” said Rose.

 _“Guys,”_ said Peter. “You can’t be serious. I know some of you are new to this, like three of you are, but… _Come on._ Reincarnation isn’t real. It’s fake. You could just be under a Memory Charm or something.”

Blake shook his head.

“Memory Charm?” said Hermione.

“Spells that alter memories,” said Peter. “I know they’re restricted, but some people still know them from the old days and this could be them just…”

“Breaking the law for no reason?” said Evan.

“Well, _yeah,”_ said Peter. “People do that.”

“Most people have a reason when they commit a crime,” I said, the edge had eased. “Even if that reason is that they don’t want to work to get what they want. This…wouldn’t make sense. Just messing with a bunch of kids.”

_But then people like Jack Slash exist. Ending the world just because._

“And it doesn’t fit reality,” said Rose. “The monster that attacked, it was from our world.”

“From the Abyss to be specific,” said Blake. He opened his mouth to speak but he was interrupted by Sylvester.

“Out of all of us Taylor should be the one to give information first,” he said. “From the sense I get of her, once we give her everything, she’s bound to not play by the rules. She’ll just clamp up.”

This was one of the moments I wished I had my powers because I could see from their expressions that I wasn’t doing a good job of hiding my tells. In all honesty, Sylvester was right. Before giving them anything I wanted to figure all of this out, weigh the chances that this might be a trap of some sort. At the end, I’d forcefully conscripted a lot of people, it wouldn’t be out of the question that even in a prison for the worst, they’d see me as the worst of them all and come after me.

 _If_ this was a prison, which still didn’t make sense.

I needed time to think, but I needed to think with all the information I could get.

Everyone was looking at me and I had no other choice but to focus on them. My eyes seemed to be flicker between them, trying to read their expression and get a mental picture. I wanted more than anything to just lose myself in my bugs, but I didn’t, because I didn’t have powers.

There was my wand, but it didn’t have the same comfort as my bugs.

“Skitter,” I said. My mind was still abuzz, searching for anything useful and finding nothing but dregs. This wasn’t a situation I could fight my way out of. I just needed to figure things out. The words were said while looking at Evan and there was only confusion. “Weaver. Khepri.”

Nothing.

“Okay,” said Sylvester. “What did that prove?”

“I’m trying to work things out,” I said.

“Not a lie,” he said to the others.

“But it doesn’t tell us anything,” said Rose.

“This situation isn’t really easy,” said Blake, sounding sympathetic.

“Because it’s _impossible,”_ said Peter. “Did you guys plan this when you were all free? Is it a prank? Are you pranking me?”

“I don’t think they are,” said Hermione.

“How are you not freaking out about this!” said Peter. “They’re saying the _broke_ one of the laws of magic.”

Hermione shrugged. “Magic sort of breaks the laws of the universe as Muggles understand them,” she said. “Why’s it a surprise that that can happen to magic too?”

“Because magic is _magic,_ ” said Peter.

“Everything is itself,” said Hermione, irritated. “I don’t think that proves anything.”

Peter shifted to get up. I got forward and grabbed him by the robes, pulling him forward. I saw the shock, his eyes opened wider, close to tears. I swallowed, looking at surprise from the others.

Another breath, slowly in and out, and then I let go of his of him.

“Sorry,” I said, “but you can’t move. There’s still the spell Rose put up.”

Peter didn’t say anything, only crossing his arms.

“It’s called dissonance,” said Sylvester. He was looking at me. “What you’re feeling right now. You’re on edge because the world doesn’t make sense, your reality’s just been shifted and how you’re reacting is more impulsive.”

I suddenly knew how Rose had felt when Sylvester had been cold reading her. It felt like I was naked and Sylvester was looking at me. I pushed back the urge to wrap my arms around myself.

“I’ll start,” said Sylvester, _manipulating me._ “I didn’t know there was more than one earth, so my earth doesn’t really have a name. I can describe the sort of place it was, though, tell you the differences between it and here?”

He was looking at me and I nodded, feeling a bit better, _because he’s playing me._

“First, I’m in the future,” he said, “It was still the nineteen-hundreds and the world was different. The United States of America didn’t exist, instead the Crown States existed. From what I read, this is because in my earth, sciences didn’t go the hard route. We made clones and stitched, people being brought back from the dead and biological augmentations instead of going the engineering route.”

“Who were you in all of this?” I asked.

“Sylvester Lambsbridge,” he said and he was grinning. “I worked with the Academy, an _experiment_ of the Academy before I went turncoat.” He tapped his head. “They messed with my head, gave me the stuff that makes me think the way I think, see the world the way I see it.”

“Wait,” said Rose, “that doesn’t make sense. How are you still the same here if you were you there by them giving you…stuff?”

“Because I wasn’t the only reincarnated,” he said. “There’s someone else from my world.” He smiled. “And Taylor’s too.”

“You’ve got to stop doing that,” I said. “Talking for me.”

“If I don’t talk for you, you’d never say anything,” he said with a shrug.

“How can you fight?” said Blake. “If you were an experiment and they messed with your head, you shouldn’t have been used to a fight like you were when the Bogeyman attacked.”

“I was…a problem solver,” said Sylvester, he was still smiling, but the smile seemed hollow. “Me and others.” The smile shifted, becoming dangerous. “Then we were problem starters. Before we _solved_ the problems.”

He stopped talking, his expression going impassive. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move anyone to speak and he didn’t look at me to pick up where he’d left off.

 _Manipulating me,_ I reminded myself.

“There was magic in our world,” said Evan. Rose shot a look his way, but Evan ignored it. Blake, he just seemed tired. “But it wasn’t magic like this. There was a lot more… _bad,_ you know? There were all these rules that made the world…”

“Go to shit,” Blake said.

“Yeah. That,” said Evan. “I was just a kid who died, survived a monster only and got ganked by the cold. Blake and Rose were part of a family that…”

“The worst magic in this world are the Unforgivable Curses,” Blake said. He looked at Peter. “In that world, our family worked with Unforgivable Curses _a lot_. Except…it’s worse? The Unforgivable Curses are better. You kill someone with the Killing Curse and they’re dead; control them with the Imperious Curse and they can still go on, they’ll have trauma but they’ll be whole; the pain of the Cruciatus Curse, when the spell is done, can fade into memory. With these things, if you hit someone with the Cruciatus Curse, not only would they always feel that pain, but it would spread to the world around them.”

“And Rose was going to use that sort of magic to take care of the monster?” said Hermione.

“It was a bluff,” said Rose, her voice breaking a little, almost _pleading_ that she be believed. I’d seen her, the look in her eyes and I think I’d felt something similar. I’d gone through with it, controlled people to fight Scion. I didn’t doubt that Rose would have done the same.

 _Why did the monster attack you?_ I wanted to ask, but I looked at Sylvester. His eyes didn’t meet mine and his expression was still impassive.

_Manipulating me without manipulating me._

I would be proving him right, wouldn’t I? Asking questions without once considering telling them about me. Even now, I couldn’t push myself to: I looked at Hermione and Peter, both of whom weren’t a part of whatever crap meant we’d been reincarnated into. They were a security risk, weren’t they? Just kids who this could be forced out of.

 _But Professor Brown has been reincarnated,_ a part of me thought, _and you could just ask him for a way to keep them quiet._

“I could leave,” said Hermione, her voice small. I looked at her. “You guys…are adults, I think, and when people are talking about adult things, they don’t want children in the room.”

“I think last night proved you can deal with adult things,” said Evan. “Like…before everything happened, if I had the choice between being with my parents and leaving them when I was just attacked. I would have picked the first one.”

“But I kept crying the whole time,” she said. “And I couldn’t sleep for most of the night.”

“Nothing wrong with being scared,” said Sylvester, and shivers ran through me because he managed to sound speak in a monotone. “If you’re not scared it means there’s something broken in your head.”

“Yeah,” said Blake and there was so much in that word it was overwhelming.

“I trust you, Hermione,” I said. “You’re a good person.” She smiled at my words.

_This could all be manipulation, every second of it._

_But what did I lose telling them stuff they should already know?_

“There was no magic,” I said. “There were heroes and villains, people with powers and I was one of them. I lived in a city that was on its last leg. I tried and failed to save it.”

Sylvester looked up, the impassivity disappearing. “I knew there was something different about you guys,” he said. “From the moment I met you, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. But now it makes sense. You weren’t kids and that’s where I made my mistake. I thought that I’d have to build you up but you’d already _been_ built up. You’re fully realised.”

“Do you have any idea how creepy you sound?” said Rose.

He shrugged. “It’s the way I think.”

“That’s not comforting at all,” she said.

Peter shook his head. “I’m still not sure I believe all of this,” he said. “It’s too…” He gesticulated. _“Crazy. Impossible.”_

“I don’t think that matters,” I said. I felt a little worn, still off-kilter. “What matters is that you don’t tell anyone.”

Blake’s eyes didn’t move from him. Peter looked at each of us, stopping on me for a second before settling on Sylvester.

“Remember what I said,” said Sylvester, “it’s better to have people working with you instead of having them as enemies.”

“I’ll keep it a secret,” he said. “But that’s also because I can’t really believe that this isn’t some prank.”

“So what now?” said Hermione. “What happens?”

“Now we become friends,” said Sylvester.

“That’s not how friendship works,” said Peter. “You don’t just say _friends_ and then all’s rosy.” He let out a nervous chuckle.

“Friends help each other out,” said Sylvester, “and Rose has a problem. There’s the Bogeyman and her debt. There’s also Orn—”

“No,” said Blake.

“-ell to think about,” said Sylvester.

 _“Don’t,”_ said Blake. “Don’t say that name. Don’t say anything close to it. _Ever.”_

“Okay,” said Sylvester, raising his hands. “Sorry.”

“Why?” said Hermione. “Is it some incantation?”

“Names have power,” said Rose. “Calling a name means summoning something. I don’t know how things stand because of _this,_ it might not even work, but should we take the chance?”

“Summoning the monster with that name would be the worst thing you could do for the world,” said Blake.

Evan nodded, expression grim.

“Noted,” said Sylvester.

“Still some part of me feels like you’re not taking it seriously,” I said, he gave me that sense even if I couldn’t tell _why._ He shrugged.

“Thanks for the offer,” said Rose, “but I won’t be needing your help. I get that you’re…competent in what you do, but that’s not this. You’d get in the way.”

“I adapt pretty quickly,” said Sylvester.

“Your confidence isn’t making me feel any better. Thank you, but…no thank you.”

“That’s a bit disappointing,” he said. “I’ve been trying to figure you guys out since I got here. Now I’ve got everything and I don’t know what to do with the rest of my life. Taylor, you don’t have anything big going on that I could tag along in?”

I didn’t say anything.

“Let me guess,” said Evan “She does?”

“How’d you guess?” said Sylvester.

“Rule of three,” he said.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I said.

Sylvester pouted and sighed. “And here I thought we’d all be one big group when all the secrets were laid out. Go on adventures.”

“I’d enjoy the quiet moments,” said Blake, he stretched a little, sitting back. He shot a glance at Rose. “They might not last too long.”

Rose crossed her arms, scowling. Sylvester was grinning.

“I feel like this is done,” Blake said, “and I haven’t eaten. We explained and I’m hoping you _get_ that this should stay between us.”

“Mutually assured destruction,” I said. “One of us spills, the rest can spill. Incentive not to.”

Blake nodded. “I’m going to lunch,” he said standing.

“Me too. I’m a little hungry,” said Evan.

Sylvester shook his head. “I’m really disappointed in this,” he muttered, getting up. “Petey, wanna help me out with something? I’m hoping it might get us a private room.”

“Um…you’re just going to let this go?” he said. Sylvester’s grin gave me a very bad feeling. He and Peter got up. Sylvester went to go grab the painting of the Boy on the Hill, leaving Hermione, Rose and me still sitting in the circle.

“Was that monster going to kill you?” I asked.

“No. At least I don’t think so,” said Rose. She shrugged. “I should get going. Get some reading done.”

“I’ve told Dumbledore,” I said. “That I’ve been reincarnated, to help me with a problem. I don’t know that he’s really going to help, the jury’s still out, but he said he would and he might help you with this.”

Rose shook her head. _“This_ was a risk,” she said. “Evan took most of it by telling you what he did, but I’m not like the kid. I…” She shook her head. “The more I tell you guys, the more I tell _anyone,_ the more responsible I become for their actions. Some of what they do falls on me. I can’t take that chance.”

“Is there _any_ way that we could help?” said Hermione.

Rose smiled a sad smile. “Blake has Evan,” she said, “and I have…no one. The person that I had, who was _mine_ is in the other world. You guys, and I know this is a little creepy, are _mine._ You’re my friends and that helps even if it isn’t helping in the way you meant.”

“I could help you get stronger,” I said. “I’ve committed to training for my thing…?”

“The answer isn’t in this world’s magic,” she said. “I’ll get back the power I had.”

“That’s why you’ve been reading about memories all of a sudden?” said Hermione.

Rose nodded.

“Dumbledore can help with that too,” I said. “He had a bowl to watch memories from.”

“A Pensieve,” said Rose. She sighed and then shook her head. “It’d be better to use a potion. I’d need Blake and Evan’s permission first and I’m not Blake’s favourite person right now.”

It felt too personal to ask, so I didn’t.

“Whatever you need, we’ll help,” said Hermione.

“Yeah.”

Rose smiled. “Thanks.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Sylvester**

Sometimes it was easy to forget people didn’t do too well with their world suddenly changing around them. I was used to change, delt with it better because my mind was pliable. Other people not so much. When ordinary people were hit with something that forced their world to change, they withdrew, found a way to make it make sense even if it was lying to themselves or pretending it didn’t exist.

Peter and Taylor were dealing with all of this the worst.

“What are we doing?” said Peter.

“I’m distracting you,” I said, holding the painting of the Boy on the Hill. It worked against me that he knew, but over the next few hours I’d be asking him to predict how my brain worked and that could distract _anyone._

Blake and Evan were ahead of us, speaking in whispers and doing their own thing. They were dealing with this the best—them, Rose and Hermione. Hermione was the easiest to figure out because, as she’d explained, her reality had already been warped and she didn’t have a firm grasp of how the world was supposed to be. The others’ reactions, though, could explain a bit about what they’d gone through, fill in the picture of their lives on the other earth.

I put it aside for now because they weren’t really my focus.

Everything was still fresh and it would be too much to expect there to be all ’round trust. That had to be worked at, fought for.

Peter and Taylor weren’t dealing with all of this well, but Peter was the only one I could help. Taylor had withdrawn, clamped up, and trying to help her would only increase the distance between us. Better to let her deal with it on her own, nudge when I thought it was safe.

“All of that is—”

“Better not to think about it and focus on moving forward,” I interrupted.

Blake and Even continued forward while Peter and I turned into a corner, walking a bit before for finding a niche. I stopped and Peter stopped with me. I stood the painting up, seeing that the sheep were all gone, with the Boy hanging in a tree at the top of the hill.

The Boy huffed. “What was all that about?” he said.

“Do you know where the History of Magic class is?” I asked.

He frowned. “What’s it to you?”

“If you want to go to History of Magic, then I know where it is,” said Peter.

I shook my head. “I have a puzzle building, but I sort of want it filled in as quickly as I can. He,” I said, pointing to the Boy on the Hill, “is a troublemaker, and I think he’s done something that means he can’t move around the castle like I’ve seen the other paintings doing.”

It was why he’d been wanted to stave off some boredom by watching us cast spells. Of course there was likely a little leeway in the paintings nearest to him, but it didn’t extend to the rest of the castle.

The Boy crossed his arms, setting his features. He was trying to keep himself from giving any tells, which was its own sort of tell.

“You noticed that, right?” I asked.

Peter shrugged. “It felt like he was hiding something,” he said and I grinned. Peter held back his own smile. He liked being right and it cut through a bit of the shock from the revelation.

“What do you want?” the Boy said. “Gonna threaten me or something? Because I could just tell the Headmaster.”

I shook my head. “Not a threat, just opportunity,” I said.

“What’s that mean?”

“Do you know where the History of Magic class is?” I asked, not giving him everything, making him think about the possibilities, inflate what I could give him. He shrugged. “There’s a painting there, a boy, maybe a little older than you. He’s with his parents.”

“Black hair, pale and sort of looks down on everyone?” he said. I nodded. “Yeah, I know him. He’s a real tosser.”

“Tell me about him.”

“What do I get out of it?” he said.

“I move your painting someplace else and put it up,” I said. “You keep answering my questions and I could move it wherever you want every few days.”

“Why are we doing this?” said Peter.

“Just wait,” I said. “Do we have a deal?”

He shrugged. “You don’t help me, though, and I tell every painting here that you don’t follow through.”

“I’m nothing if not a man of my word,” I said. The Boy scowled and I saw Peter shaking his head while he looked at me. They could both tell I was lying, but the Boy didn’t have any imagination. He’d agree because this was good in the short term.

“He’s bent,” said the boy. “I heard rumours about him terrorising some of the animals that go around here. Portraits were thinking about telling the Headmaster, having him moved, but his parents stepped in. Now they keep him close. Don’t let him out of their portrait.”

“How old is he?” I asked. “For that matter, how old are you?”

“Been here about twenty years,” the boy said. “He was here before me, but I don’t know how long.”

“I still don’t understand,” said Peter. “What’s this all about?”

“Let’s head to Charms while the class is still empty,” I said, taking the painting and then turning it upside down. The abrupt shift had the boy fall out of the picture.

“I’m on the low end of the totem pole,” I told him as we walked. “So I have to work on that. The fastest way to do that is having blackmail material and the paintings are the best way for that.”

“But these are just dumb portraits,” he said.

“Excuse me, young man?” a painting of an old woman caked with white powder and red lips said. Peter ignored her.

“All they do is sit around watching us. Most of them don’t even move out of their paintings. Just shout at you to stop running or you’ll trip.”

“Most of them are adults, right?” I said and he nodded. “Well, adults like thinking they’re above _fun._ I’m sure most of them are watching and thinking we’re stupid for all the things we do here, that it doesn’t matter in the real world and we’re not worth taking seriously. So they settle, just watching even if it’s agonising. Kids, though, they take joy in the little things. We’re going to use that in our favour.”

“So why _that_ painting?” he said, gesturing in front of us. “Why not just go to any other?”

“Because when I looked at that boy, he looked down on me,” I said. “He thought he was smarter than me, and people that think they’re smarter than you are easier to manipulate. They think that they’re harder to manipulate so they let their guard down.”

Peter shook his head. “I feel like you have no idea what you’re doing and just making it up as you go along.”

“The best sort of plans are like that,” I told him. “Unpredictable. Anyway, I said before. Blackmail is the fastest way to move up a few rungs, but that means enemies—you should have called me out on that by the way—so I’ll have to make myself the cornerstone to a lot of relationships.”

A reminder of the lesson I’d been trying to get into his head, priming his mind to consider this a training exercise even if I wasn’t being direct about it.

“That sounds like a lot of work,” he said. “And I’m still not sure I trust you to pull it off.”

“Prepare to be surprised,” I said.

***

“Hello,” I said. There were a group of girls, three of them, and they’d been talking on a bench overlooking the mountain that closed off the back of the castle. The sun was starting to set and the sky was tinged with a reddish-orange colour. It was beautiful, but a part of me missed the rain.

“Are you guys lost or something?” said one of the girls, short and plump, her hair in a bowl cut. It didn’t look good on her, especially when her face was so round, but it made sense that the other Hufflepuffs hadn’t had the nerve to mention it didn't suit her.

“No,” I said. “We had homework for Charms and I was wondering if magic can affect the paintings? Like the people inside?”

“Um…” She didn’t know and she looked at her friends.

A tall, dark-skinned girl nodded. “Yeah,” she said, though she was frowning a little. “But that seems a little advanced for…first years?”

Peter had changed his hair with a bit of water, making it spiky and rising up. It contrasted with how put together it normally was.

“An older girl said we should do it for her,” said Peter, sounding glum. I held back a grin. _Good job._ It fit with the image they had of Slytherin house.

One of the girls huffed. “Of course Snape’s not going to deal with this,” she muttered. “What did the homework want? Some spells are harder to cast on a painting than others.”

“A blinding spell,” I said. “Making sure a painting didn’t see stuff that was happening around them.”

The plump girl hummed. “Not really sure I know a spell like that,” she said. “I’ll have to ask around.”

“It’s okay,” I said, pitching my voice higher. “I…I think this’ll be enough.”

“Not happening?” Peter asked as we walked away.

“No, I just hate that I have to learn so many new spells that I’ll probably forget,” I said. “At least we know it’s possible.”

 _“What_ are you going to do, though?” said Peter. “I’ve been trying to think and I still don’t get where this is going.”

“I’ll let him be himself,” I said, “and he’ll tell me everything he’s seen.”

“And what makes you think he’s seen anything useful?” he asked.

“Because that’s the feeling I got from him,” I said, “and I’m usually right.”

Peter shook his head. “This was fun, just walking around for no reason, but I have class. See you at dinner.”

“Sure,” I said, smiling a little.

The painting I’d seen was calculating and he’d seen me for who I really was. Which wasn’t surprising if the boy was older than twenty years; he would have seen a whole lot of kids in the castle passing in front of him, seen them young versus how they’d turned out when they were older. He would have gotten used to reading the signs, which he could then use to get what he wanted.

But as much as this had been about setting things in motion, it had also been about redirecting Peter’s focus. He would follow the path of least resistance, tackling the thing that seemed easier. He would try figuring out what I was doing with the pieces I had, try to turn his mind from breaking people down, to building them up.

I really hoped he figured it out.

“Excuse me,” I asked a painting. “Can you lead me to the library, please?”

“Follow me,” said the man. My gut had been right: Taylor was there, sans Hermione or Rose who’d be in class. She was focusing on a book of potions, occasionally jotting down notes on a pad beside her.

“Hey,” I whispered, because Madam Pince didn’t like talking and I didn’t know when a librarian would be useful.

She looked up, and any ease she’d had evaporated. I held up my hands which just made things worse.

“Not gonna ask you about your deal,” I said, sitting down. She sat straighter. “I know you’re…still shaky with everything.”

“You unnerve me,” she said. “People like you.”

“People like me?”

“People who can—”

“Shhh!”

Taylor and I looked around but there was no one there.

“Wanna get out of here?” I said. “Really get to know each other?”

“I don’t trust that you’re not doing this because you want something,” she said.

“That’s because I do want something,” I said. “To be your friend.”

A brow quirked up. “Why?”

“Because—”

Madam Pince strode out from between a bookcase, tall and sharp featured, a scowl directed at us. “Leave,” she ordered. “And leave my books.”

Taylor sighed, packing up her notes. She left and I followed.

“Why is being friends with me so important?” she asked.

“Because you’re entertaining,” I said, smiling. She gave me a look, not impressed. “And because you remind me of _them.”_ She eased a little, giving me a look. “Back in the old country I had friends, _family._ We…had adventures together, life and death type stuff. This place…is boring in comparison and I thought maybe we could have adventures like I did with them.”

“You’re an adrenaline junkie.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But that doesn’t feel right. I…like challenge because it makes us better. Things that come close to killing us are often challenging.”

“That’s…not the life I want,” she said. “I just want to spend time with my family, learn magic because it’s cool, _live._ ”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s true,” I said. Her head snapped in my direction. I shrugged. “Do you know why I first wanted you as a friend?” She didn’t move, only scowled. “Because you were just waiting for something bad to happen, you were…like Professor Brown”—her expression flickered; there was something there but I didn’t have enough information—“ _taut,_ ready to act. Then, the next thing I know you’re going to be teaching first years jinxes for no other reason than I was jinxed. Then we’re attacked and you’re at ease, it’s like the world finally makes sense and you’re in your element.”

Her shoulders were drawn again, but there was no scowl, thinking, reflecting. She sighed and started walking again. We turned a corner, headed towards the stairs and there were standing Draco, Crabbe and Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson.

“Well, well,” he said. “Looks like—”

“Celare!” said Taylor, and a plume of dark smoke sprang from her wand and quickly engulfed the entire hall. I hadn’t even caught her pulling out her wand.

We had to step back because the smoke started spilling around us, threatening to send us into coughing fits and wrapping us in darkness as it was doing to Draco and his minions.

A blue spell shot out, but it went high and hit the ceiling.

Taylor and I ducked low, both of us calm as we left the smoke-filled hallway and took a long way round to the moving staircases.

“That would have been useful when we were being attacked,” I said.

She nodded. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that fight, what I could have done better,” she said. There was so much that she wasn’t saying, thoughts connecting, and a part of me wished I knew her well enough that she would be a book, easy to read.

“Is that why you’re helping Rose?” I said. Rose had been reading into memories this morning and now Taylor was doing it. It seemed the most likely reason. “You want round two?”

“I honestly don’t know,” she said, voice a little hollow.

“Well, if you ever need anyone talked to death, let me know,” I said.

She shrugged, non-committal, but then asking for help wasn’t something she did easily.

“Please tell me you’re doing something about them bullying you,” she said, gesturing to where we’d left Draco and the others.

“Still in the works,” I said. “Most people don’t really care about it. I sort of walked into it the first night here.”

“Still don’t like that it’s a thing,” she said. “That it’s so easy to overlook.”

“Policing kids is hard,” I told her. “Don’t really blame the staff if they let us run this prison ourselves. And things will be worse now since the whole monster thing. Did you know there are still Aurors guarding that place?”

“Heard it from a few Gryffindors in the library,” she said. “Some were caught trying to sneak in.”

“Wanna go check it out?” I said with a grin. “Steal a few hours before we have Defence.”

“That sounds like a stupid idea,” she said.

“Exciting, though,” I said.

She stopped, thinking about it before she shook her head. “I’ll maybe keep practising my Cloaking Charm. I should be able to control it better from the description.”

“No fun,” I said. “Can you teach me that spell? I’ve got something I’m doing and I think this might be a good spell for the job.”

***

“Celare!”

There was a bang like a bomb going off. The darkness spread all around us with none of the direction that Taylor’d had in hers. A breath in and the smoke got into my nose, hitting the back of my throat before it evaporated. It wasn’t enough to drown me, but it started a cough, enough to make my eyes water.

I could hear similar coughs all around me, a muffled cough closer to me.

“Finite Incantatem!” I heard shouted, not Taylor because it was too far away, but nothing happened.

“Finite—” Taylor stopped coughing.

“Finite Incantatem!” another voice boomed and I caught a patch of light, slowly spreading as more of the counter-curse was said. When all of the smoke was gone, I saw an older Ravenclaw scowling at me. “What in Merlin’s name was that?”

“Practising spells,” I said, doing my best to sound innocent.

“Well…not in the halls, okay?” he said. “Especially a spell like that. Take it outside.”

“Okay,” I said, smiling. The paintings were scowling at me, fanning away wisps of darkness with their hands, but that wasn’t important. The boy who hung out with is parents had disappeared, leaving his parents looking around in confusion.

“Good spell, though,” the boy said. “’Specially for a first year.”

“Thanks,” I said with a bright smile.

The older boy left.

“What was that about?” Taylor asked. She was looking after the parents who were now moving from painting to painting shouting ‘Ozymandias’ as they looked around.

“Setting off a few dominoes,” I said. “Hopefully it works out alright. Let’s head to Defence.”

_Now, he’ll be able to find me._


	19. Chapter 19

**Harry**

_And the gun went off. Thomas Calvert dead._

The world around me broke and I was pushed back, landing with a stumble out of the Pensieve. Dumbledore materialised and he had a little more poise. I was a little jealous, but then he had more experience using this thing.

“They’re real?” I asked.

“They haven’t been falsified, though there are gaps,” he said, running a hand through his long beard. “Of course the gaps are easily to explain away. There’s the girl with the horns, Imp, if I’m remembering correctly.”

I hummed, going back to the memory of a memory. Hermione had seen the lack of effort I’d put into Occlumency as a major failing, but after Voldemort had died and the connection between us had disappeared, I hadn’t really seen the need. Now it was coming to bite me in the butt in the form of _Imp._

One of the unknowns, the people who hadn’t existed in my world, was like me; her mind had been shifted from her home dimension into this one. Unlike me, her world was vastly different, for one it had people like _Imp_ who had the irritating ability of pulling away all memories of themselves from my mind.

_Guess you were right, Hermione._

She’d told me that even if Voldemort was dead, in my line of work, there was the possibility that I might go against a Legilimens. I’d been lazy, hadn’t been willing to put in the effort when Legillimency was so rare and I was so bad at Occlumency, and she’d eventually given up on trying to get me to learn it.

As a result, there were those same gaps in my mind from Imp’s power as there were in Taylor’s memories.

“What now?” I asked, turning away from the longing.

“Now, we speak to Thomas,” said Dumbledore, letting out a sigh. “The picture of him Ms Hebert’s memories paint is worrying.”

“Not good for her, either,” I said. “All the stuff she did to people. She doesn’t have clean hands.”

“Everyone is the hero of their own stories, Harry.”

“Except Voldemort.”

“No,” he said. “Except him. I feel that one of Tom’s greatest flaws was his need to prove he was better than everyone else. He never realised that brilliance, even shared, is still brilliance.”

“Not everyone can be like you, Headmaster.”

“You flatter me, Harry,” said Dumbledore, smiling a little. I watched him as he moved, pacing a little. “I noticed something, though this may perhaps be premature.”

“Oh?”

“You were brought back and Voldemort along with you,” he said.

“We’re still not sure about that, yet,” I said. “Scar hasn’t even twinged.”

Dumbledore nodded. “But we think it the most likely event, yes?”

“I don’t know why,” I said. “But it feels right.”

“Magic exists even in abstracts, Harry,” he said. “There is power in intuition, even if sometimes it might lead us astray.” I shrugged. “We think that Voldemort is back. Voldemort who took so much from you. Who, some would say, was your adversary. From the memories we have from Ms Hebert, it seems she’s faced with something similar: Thomas, _Coil,_ was the person she spent most of her career going after, from the first decision she made, to join the Undersiders, he was the driving force. _Her_ adversary.”

“I think you’re making me out to be more important than I am,” I said. “Don’t you think _they’re_ the important ones? From those memories, Thomas is a smart man, even he’s ruthless. He successfully worked and got what we wanted, while Ms Hebert’s feats seem like they have an element of luck.” I shrugged. “Maybe they’re the ones who were pulled, and Ms Hebert and I were pulled because we killed them?”

“You have too little faith in yourself, Harry,” he said.

“That’s because I know what I can and can’t do,” I said. “And there’s a _lot_ that I can’t. I wouldn’t have won against Voldemort if it hadn’t been for you. She wouldn’t have won against Coil if it hadn’t been…”

If it hadn’t been for getting the right pieces, the right people, the right sets of powers together. But that felt wrong. I’d watched the girl struggle with what she had, seen as she lived through things she should have died from. It felt wrong to say that she was just lucky.

Dumbledore sighed, a hand settling on my shoulder.

“I feel it will help you both to talk,” he said.

“Don’t really know what to say,” I said. “I don’t know that there _needs_ anything to be said.”

“Harry,” said Dumbledore, sounding older and scaring me a little. It was the same tone of voice he used before having someone make the choice in doing what was right or easy. “You have lost a lot. Perhaps speaking with something who shares that burden would do you good.”

Ginny, when it felt like our relationship had finally reached a stable point. Ron and Hermione, when they were okay and they were doing things they loved. But more than anything I’d lost _peace._

After everything had been done and I could move forward, decided what I wanted to do with my life, I was back at the start, knowing that I’d have to die again if I wanted this world to be rid of Voldemort.

I swallowed, closing my eyes and then shaking my head.

“I have classes, Headmaster.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Then I’ll let you get back to your duties,” he said. “Whether you want to speak to Ms Hebert is up to you. I won’t force the matter.”

I nodded. “Thomas. Will you need me?”

“No,” said Dumbledore. “I think I can deal with this myself. Have a good day, Harry.”

“You too, Headmaster.”

There was still a bit of lunch and I had a bit of free time before the next set of classes. Two days and I was finding that this was a lot harder than I’d thought. Every second year I’d taught, I’d had to start from the ground up. They knew the theoretical make up of spells, but actually _casting_ them was another thing. I was helped in large part by the overlap between second year Charms and Defence, that my syllabus wasn't stalled.

The older years weren’t so lucky.

I read over my notes before my next class, a group of twelve sixth years. Only six had managed to pass their OWLs, but I’d had to give a little leeway because of how subpar the previous professor had been.

“We’re supposed to be starting with non-verbal magic as preparation for when you eventually start doing your NEWTs,” I said in greeting. “But from what I’ve seen, some of you are lucky to be in this class.”

“That’s not really fair, sir,” said a Gryffindor. “More fair to say we were unlucky to have the professor we did last year.”

“Semantics,” I said with shrug. “We’ll start things as slow as we can take them while still working to move towards non-verbal magic.”

The classroom was as large as it could be made, all of the desks vanished and protective enchantments set so that each pair of students wouldn’t have to worry about the stray spell hitting them. It also meant I didn’t have to worry about any of the cases with creatures being broken accidentally.

“We’ll start with the jinxes and counter-jinxes you were supposed to know, just so I have a measure of your progress,” I said. “We’ll tackle the Tongue-Tying Jinx first. Begin.”

The jinx was basic, one third years were supposed to know and defend against, and still only half the class knew the counter-jinx. I noted this down, watching how they were moving their wands, listening to how they stressed words and watching out for any improvements I could make in aim.

We quickly moved on to the Impediment Jinx and the Shielding Charm as well as variations, the Stunning and Disarming Charms—which were even worse in terms of people who could cast them—as well as some offensive curses. By the time the class ended, I hadn’t taught anyone anything, but I’d gotten a sense of the class.

“That’ll be all,” I said and I sat at my desk, watching as they left. The door opened as the first of the kids left and Thomas Calvert walked in. He stopped and looked around: The ceiling was a massive water exhibition filled with a host of magical creatures that lived in water; a portion of the wall was host to magical bugs; there was a large case just to the left of my desk that had a three-headed snake as well as an egg that glowed red sitting in a fire pit.

“You’ve gone all out,” he said smiling.

I shrugged. He was supposed to be a bad guy and he’d done bad things, but it wasn’t so cut and dried. From what he’d told Taylor Hebert, he’d been trying to fix his city, even if the way he’d gone about it was brutal. But then there was the girl he’d used, the one he’d drugged and the one Taylor Hebert had done a _lot_ of bad to get back.

“I got a little carried away,” I said. “Wanted to impress the kids.”

“This’ll do it,” he said. He pointed at the wall. “This is…” He snapped his fingers three times. “A Dugbog. It’s not supposed to be in the country.”

“It was being trafficked,” I said. “I bought it for educational purposes. It’s a dark creature.”

He held up his hands. “Wasn’t going to arrest you,” he said. “Anyway you seem to know your laws. But then, you give me that Auror vibe.”

“I took a course,” I said, a lie, part of my cover. “They’re big in Russia.”

He nodded. “I’ve heard,” he said. “Thought about going there, get a different perspective but then Voldemort got in the way and we had to deal with that.”

“Dumbledore told me about that,” I said. “Told me you were a good bit of help, hiding people.”

“I was connected to my Muggle roots,” he said. “I know the place more than the average wizard.”

“It’s what made you good on the money case,” I said.

He grinned. “You’ve been reading up on me?”

“I like the idea of the Squib Squad,” I said. “I thought I might like the person who came up with it.”

“Where were you when everyone was calling me an idiot for the change in career paths?” he said with a little chuckle.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I said, shuffling my notes and putting them in my drawer.

“I was around,” he said. “Dealing with the door. Thought you’d want to see things through?”

“You’re dealing with it now?”

“During dinner,” he said. “When all the kids are in one place. We’ve gotten more than a few children digging around, having to be stopped.”

“Gryffindors?”

“And Slytherin, wouldn’t you believe? Two sides of the same coin, I’ve always thought.” I frowned at that. “You were Gryffindor?”

“What makes you say that?”

“The worst thing you can say to a Gryffindor is that they’re like Slytherin and vice versa.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I am. Three years before I was home-schooled. Parents moved around a lot.”

“Must have been tough.”

“Got to see a whole lot of different magical communities,” I said and shrugged.

“I’m hoping that means you appreciate Battle Magic,” he said. “There’s nothing finer than seeing the combat applications of magic.”

“You want me to restart the club,” I said.

“It was my baby,” he said. “Had to fight tooth and nail to start it then spread it around the world. Almost every Defence professor supervised it, went through the paperwork of the battles between schools, and then Professor Blyth happened.”

“I get the sense he wasn’t too god at actually _casting_ spells,” I told him.

Thomas hummed. “What are your thoughts on it?”

“I didn’t really consider it,” I said. “But it might be an excuse to have the kids learn—Come in,” I said, Seamus had stepped talking to Dean and suddenly stopped. I flicked my wand and the desks appeared. “Excuse for the kids to learn spells in their off time.”

“Maybe I can buy you a drink as thanks?” he said. “Talk you through it? I’ve always wanted to help with that.”

I gave him a smile. “Have you spoken to Dumbledore? I heard him mention that he wanted to talk to you.”

“Got the patronus,” he said. “I was on my way there right…now.”

The pause had been so small I’d almost missed it, but he _had_ paused. I looked to the door and saw Taylor Hebert along with Sylvester Lambsbridge. Taylor had stopped, one hand at her pocket, and Sylvester was looking between Taylor and Thomas.

Thomas smiled. “They get younger and younger every year, don’t they?” he said.

“Or we’re getting old.”

He chuckled. “Don’t remind me. I should be off. I’ll send you a patronus when we’re planning on breaching the doorway?”

“I’ll look forward to it,” I said. I tapped my leg and my senses spread.

“…isn’t he?” Sylvester was saying.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Taylor returned.

“Professor Brown is trying to seem like he isn’t paying attention to us,” said Sylvester. I stopped myself from looking at them and instead watching everyone else, all of them were finding their seats, their heads craning. “He’s listening. I’ll shut up.”

I’d touched him so I knew he wasn’t Voldemort. Even so, the kid reminded me a lot of Tom when he’d been a boy.

 _But he’s not Voldemort,_ I reminded myself. Voldemort was still being quiet, which was scarier than if he’d been doing anything.

“Hello, first years,” I said. Most of them were in still looking up and pointing, talking between themselves. “I am Professor James Brown and for the next year, hopefully until your seventh year, I will be teaching you Defence Against the Dark Arts. During this year, I will teach you techniques that should help you in times of danger. This includes a few spells as well as identifying some of the creatures you’re most likely to run into as you go about your days.

“We’ll start today’s lesson with what I feel is the most useful of charms: The Lighting Charm.” I pulled up my wand and said, “Lumos.” The tip flicked on, creating a ball of light.

“How will putting on a light help us against dark creatures?” I heard Ron mutter to Neville.

“Good question, Mr Weasley,” I said and he started. I caught a frown from Sylvester who looked between me and Ron. I ignored it, flicking my wand. The windows darkened, drowning the room in darkness. My wand became the only source of light. “Now imagine if something were to escape from my tanks: A cockroach, perhaps, or a rat, or a spider or a snake. How would you be able to run away when it’s dark out?”

“Run away?” said Seamus. “I thought this was _Defence._ We should be learning to fight like Taylor.”

“Yeah,” said Dean. “She fought off a monster.”

“Is that out, yet?” I asked.

“Only a fool doesn’t know that something happened last night,” said Pansy.

“And only a fool would think a Mudblood did something other than wet their knickers while running,” Draco muttered to Crabbe and Goyle, both of them snickering.

“Ten points from Slytherin for the remark, Mr Malfoy,” I said, “and detention. I won’t have that kind of talk in my class. Ms Hebert, how much of what you and Mr Lambsbridge did during your attack was running?”

“Almost all of it,” said Taylor. She shrugged. “If you’re not sure you can win, running’s the smartest thing to do.”

“Five points to Gryffindor for practicality.”

“Practicality?” said Sylvester. “What’s that even mean?”

“The stupidest thing you can believe, and a notion I hope to teach you is false, is that you have to fight every battle,” he said. “This isn’t true, and often running and going to ask for help is the best thing to do. Which is why for the first few weeks I’ll be teaching you ways to make sure you learn ways to run, hide and call for help. Now, wands out and we’ll begin with the Lighting Charm.”

Taylor Hebert, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini already knew the Lighting Charm and how to turn the light off, so I moved them onto the Sparks Spell, which Taylor Hebert already knew and I moved her onto the Simple Concealing Charm.

“The incantation Dissimulo,” I told her, the two of us in a patch of space set so the others wouldn’t be able to hear us speak. “The incantation is the hardest part, but the wand motion is on the simpler end.”

“This wasn’t in our textbooks,” she said.

“I know, but I saw your memories.” She frowned but didn’t say anything. “You can’t do your bug thing, right? Can’t control them?” She shook her head. “This will be a step-in for hiding yourself in your bugs. It means you can’t move, but it’s a necessary first step. I’ll be teaching you better spells as time passes.”

I stood straight, hand on her shoulder and feeling her stiffen.

“I’ll be watching Thomas Calvert,” I told her. “He won’t hurt you.”

“Thank you,” she said after a moment.

I moved on to the rest of the class. Sylvester got the Lighting Charm down quickly and moved on to the Sparks Spells. He got through that even faster and we spent the time working on his aim with the spell. Most of the class still hadn’t learned the Lighting Charm by the end of it, and Blaise and Draco hadn’t succeeded in the Sparks Spell.

“Keep practising,” I said. “But there’s no need to rush. We’ll keep working through it until we get it right.”

“He knows about you,” I heard Sylvester say as they packed up.

“And you if you were right about before,” said Taylor. “He knows about you too.”

Sylvester looked up, taking me in before he smiled and waved. “Is he like us?” He grinned. “You _really_ have to work on your tells,” he said to Taylor. “But then, you too, Professor.”

I pulled out my wand and a patronus flew out. Dumbledore would be interested. Honestly, I really wasn’t, I had another class to prepare for.

***

“And where does Mr Lambsbridge fit into this?” Dumbledore said, it was restrained, but I could hear a giddy sort of excitement. “Have you made contact since you sent the message?”

I shook my head, sipping my tea.

“These are exciting times, Harry,” he said. “Exciting times.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Headmaster,” I said with a small smile. Every moment I spent with him, I was continually surprised by how little I’d known him. Almost every time we’d talked, it had been with the backdrop of something serious, something bad in the background, so I hadn’t really come to see him as a person.

But now I knew, for instance, that he was like Hermione. Excited by the prospect of something he didn’t understand and enjoying the work of learning about it.

“What do you think of the boy?”

“Reminds me a lot of Tom,” I said. “Manipulative sort.”

“He’s having trouble in Slytherin,” said Dumbledore. “He’s a Muggle-born and they aren’t accepting him.”

“Seems to be close to one of the Thorburn twins. The older set.”

“Peter Thorburn,” he said.

“Him. Yeah.”

“Small mercies,” he said. “Though the last Muggle-born Slytherin seemed to thrive as the years went on. She had quite the prowess in Potions, the girl, took after Slughorn in how she could gather people with talent around her.” Dumbledore smiled. “Age, Harry,” he said. “It has a way of making it easier for the mind to wander.”

“We were talking about Thomas.”

“He’s admitted everything, giving me his memories,” he said. “He’s given me more depth than Ms Hebert and indeed the image he paints isn’t flattering to himself.”

“So he’s evil?”

“He did bad things,” said Dumbledore. “But, and perhaps it is the memories he’s given me, I think he might have been trying to do good.”

“The girl,” I said.

“And others,” said Dumbledore. “Either through threat or lies. He’s killed or ordered the killing of people, done _very_ bad things by using his ability.” Dumbledore sighed. “I think Thomas is a very troubled man, driven by ego, but who had found a driving force that would have led to some good. I don’t think this is as simple as Ms Hebert thought it was.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’ve let Thomas know I’ll be watching him in case he acts against Ms Hebert, but I fear what that might drive him to do. I would like it if he stayed the course, kept using his influence for good as he has been doing since I’ve known him.”

“Does he know that I know?”

“I haven’t told him yet,” said Dumbledore.

“Then I’ll keep close. I don’t have friends in this reality, and maybe I can keep him doing good? I really like what he did with the Squid Squad.”

“If you think that’s best, Harry.”

“What about Ms Hebert?” I asked. “I’ve committed to showing her the ropes, but…”

“You’re right to be worried,” said Dumbledore. “If anything, Ms Hebert has the particular ability to pull others around herself, commit them to her cause. She might not have the same level of influence as Thomas, but ultimately it is inevitable and we should work to shape it, ensure she does not follow the path she followed in her own dimension.”

“I’ll leave that to you,” I said. “I have to go. Thomas invited me to watch their breach of the door.”

“Have fun,” he said, “and be careful.”

I nodded and left.


	20. Chapter 20

**Blake**

“We should help Rose,” said Evan.

After a muttered word, a rock in front of me changed: first the shape and the texture, colour starting to bleed into the grey rock. Black, vivid and dull in place, black and orange. The shape continued to change, elongating in places into thin, dark stalks, talons starting to sprout; a small head with a short beak, feathers that stuck up for a red frill.

More of the bird formed until it was a Northern Cardinal.

It jumped, moving from its back to its legs. The wings opened and I saw remnants of rock still shifting, taking on the colouring and texture of the feathers. The bird opened its beak, its throat moved up and down as it sung; it ruffled its feathers before it started beating them, taking off into the air and joining the other birds I’d transfigured.

“She’s one of us and she’s scared,” said Evan. “The Abyss is after her.”

“That’s the trap,” I said. “You feel like you have to do something and then you’re _always_ doing something.”

“But we’re the good guys,” said Evan. “We fight the monsters.”

There were over a dozen former pieces of rock and they acted like birds. This would have taken a lot of power in the other reality, or it would have meant a price if I was using Glamour. Especially when the fact they were rocks was heavy in my mind. But right now, it didn’t matter how many spells I cast because they didn’t tire me, the only hard part of this was reaching for birds I knew well enough to transfigure and stressing the right parts of words.

“People are already fighting the monsters,” I said. I gestured with my head. In the air, far above my birds, there was a man wearing golden robes on a broom stick. He hovered in front of a set of windows close to where we’d been attacked.

“But they don’t understand them like we do,” said Evan. “They don’t know the Abyss like us.”

“The smart option is telling them,” I said with a shrug. “Not getting involved.”

“But…” He stopped. I looked at him and he sighed. “That’s why the other place was so sucky. Because people were willing to just let things go, tell themselves that other people would deal with it. How did that turn out?”

I sighed, thinking about Jacob’s Bell and Toronto. I thought about Rose’s play when things had reached a head. Demons had come knocking, threatening to take a town and the Practitioners in Toronto had only acted when they’d been _forced_ to. I’d always hated that kind of thing, people letting shittiness stay when they had the power to do something.

_Hypocrite._

I sighed again. “It just feels like…we’ll be opening the door,” I said. “If Rose Awakens and we’re close, we’ll get some of that radiation and it won’t be pretty.”

“She’ll be the only Practitioner on this world,” said Evan. “Maybe things won’t be so bad.” I gave him a look. “Yeah,” he said, smiling a little. “I knew I was wrong the moment I said it. But Rose is family, we should be helping her. She shouldn’t be dealing with this on her own.”

“Yeah,” I said. “You’re right. We’ll help her Awaken? Be there for her when she makes a deal with the Abyss?”

Evan nodded. “Maybe with her practitioner powers she can summon Green-Eyes.”

“Yeah,” I said, but I couldn’t push back the bad feeling at the bottom of my stomach. It felt like when I’d been foisted into magic the first time around. There were so many things I had to figure out and they came with their own baggage. Sylvester and Taylor were like us, like I’d thought, but they pointed to a wider universe, especially with what Taylor had said. Worlds where superpowers existed and where bio-punk wasn’t just fiction.

And I didn’t know how they fit into the rules I knew, the rules of _this_ world.

It couldn’t be coincidence that we’d been drawn together, a group of people who’d been reincarnated. So how did that fit in the grander scheme of things? What narrative did whatever god who’d pulled us into this existence want?

Rose’s quest, it felt like, was the obvious trap. But it was against everything I believed in to just let the problems that were building be background when I could do something.

The birds reacted, singing different songs. I looked up and the Auror was flying down.

“Hey, kids,” he said. “It’s getting dark out. Get back to the castle.”

“Okay, sir,” said Evan, smiling at the man. I just shrugged and started walking, watching the man move on to another group of kids. The birds followed, flying ahead of us and spanning out.

“Are you making them do that?” said Evan. “You know, with mind powers?”

“No,” I said. “But I think they listen to me when I say things. Maybe I transfigured training into their brain?”

“How does that work?”

I shrugged. “If I learned one thing from Glamour, it’s that you don’t question it. Just do what feels right.”

“I think Rose would be terrified if she heard that,” he said.

I smiled a little. “She never liked it when I thought of magic as art,” I told him. “When I told her that you didn’t need to know what the rules said _exactly,_ you could just feel things out.”

“Gotta agree with Rose on this one. With all the stuff that can go wrong with magic. I don’t think you should be testing what works and what doesn’t.”

“To each their own,” I said.

We got into the castle, joining the crowd of students heading to dinner. I spotted a few more Aurors in the halls just walking around, watching dark corners and herding kids.

“Hey,” said a fourth year. “Cool birds.”

“Thanks,” I said and the fun ended because all of my birds turned into rocks that fell out of the air. I looked to the staff table and saw Professor McGonagall shaking her head at the man beside her. Professor Snape.

The Great Hall was buzzing with activity and seemed a lot fuller than it usually got this early into the night. I scanned and could see Rose already eating with Hermione and Taylor. Sylvester sat with Peter and a dark-skinned boy I only knew was a first year. People were sitting so they were looking at Sylvester as he spoke, with the boy doing showy wand motions though he wasn’t holding anything.

“Must be telling people about the attack,” said Evan. “I’m going to tell the others. I don’t know what they think about us.”

“If you’re asking for my permission, then you don’t need it,” I said.

“Okay,” said Evan, pulling a plate, stacking it with food and then making everyone around him turn to look. “The scene: Evening, and seven students are…” Everyone instantly sat closer, leaning in.

I tuned him out, smiling because I knew the story and it was better to just see Evan be happy. He was the centre of attention, with everyone who could looking and listening. Overall, he stuck to Sylvester’s framework but he changed the story a little, going into detail about what he felt, describing how his heart had hammered and sweat had coated him. He talked about the spells he’d used, about how Sylvester had taught him the Tripping Jinx in the heat of the moment and how it was his spell that hit the monster and gave them the chance to run.

“Students,” said a voice, soft but reaching every corner of the Great Hall. I looked up and Headmaster Dumbledore was standing. “As you all no-doubt will have learned, there was an attack last night at Hogwarts.”

“Oh, _now_ he’s telling us,” someone muttered.

“The attack did indeed occur,” he said, “but I assure you the matter is being dealt with and precautions are being taken to ensure your safety. One of those precautions is that entire houses will be escorted as groups back to their common rooms, where no one will be allowed to leave until morning. Please prepare yourself for departure in thirty minutes.”

He sat back down and conversation broke out in the Great Hall as people started to move. It felt like everyone was suddenly aware that they wouldn’t be seeing their friends until tomorrow and were trying to get the last dregs of conversation and gossip in before they had to leave.

“Be right back,” I said. “Gotta speak to Rose.”

I wasn’t the only one who stood, people were suddenly moving from their house tables to others. I caught Sylvester waving his arms and he pointed at the reporter girl who was striding towards the Hufflepuff table. I frowned but I started walking slower, hoping to catch the conversation.

“…something…ing…ten Galleons…” I heard the reporter girl say.

“…trouble…Ministry…” a boy said.

“…worry,” the reporter girl said, but I had to get past or she’d notice me. Sylvester whispered something to Peter and got up, running and then falling. He quickly caught himself, turning around to face a bunch of snickering third years.

Three glowing cats flew out from the staff table and headed for Slytherin table. They stopped in front of the third years and said, “Three days detention. You’ll report to Hagrid the next three days at seven,” then they disappeared.

Sylvester was already up and close. “What did she say?” he said.

“He wants the boy to do something and is paying him ten Galleons,” I said. “He’s afraid of getting in trouble with the Ministry.”

“Anything else?”

I shook my head.

“Thanks, Blake. I owe you one.” He went back to the Slytherin table and said something to Peter.

I stopped beside Rose. All three of the girls turned to look at me.

“We’ve decided to help you,” I said. “Evan and me.” I let out a sigh. It didn’t feel right. “Do you have anything you need us to do overnight?”

“No,” she said. “Just some reading. I have a plan. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow?”

“What plan? What’s going on?” said Paige.

“It’s nothing,” said Rose.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing. Blake?”

“Sorry,” I said. “Say if you need anything.”

I went back to Evan and grabbed some juice before we left. The entire thing took nearly thirty minutes, with each house breaking into years before the Slytherins started filing out. No sooner had they started that than a ball of blue light flew in from the ceiling, taking the shape of a stag before it spoke in Professor Brown’s voice. “Creatures loose in the castle.”

For a second there were screams and then they stopped, silence except for Dumbledore’s voice.

“Slytherins,” he said, calm. “Get back to your table in an orderly fashion.”

There was panic, rushing as people moved back from the doors, and Professor Snape flicking his wand, making some of the younger kids from Slytherin jump into the air and just hang there. He was only doing this to the people who were running.

When everyone was clear, the doors to the Great Hall closed, with the professors who’d been about to escort us patrolling the spaces between tables.

The reporter girl’s words came to mind. She’d thought something was up. Had they been doing something to the Abyss? Had they found the place the Bogeymen used to get into this world? And how would they react to it?

I looked at Rose and she wasn’t looking at me, instead looking to the back of Taylor’s head before her gaze moved up to Dumbledore.

“What can we do?” Evan whispered to me.

I only shrugged because really what _could_ we do?

Rose let out a breath and stood. A professor close to their table noticed her and moved to intercept. She didn’t move two steps before there was movement, the doors to the Great Hall wrenching open. A woman stood beyond short, thin and pale, with stringy hair sticking to her face and parting to reveal an open mouth that didn’t have front teeth, and a tattoo gun in her right hand.

The woman turned her head, looking straight at me: _Alexis._

The spell Dumbledore had cast over the Great Hall broke and screams started again, everyone getting up from their seats and doing their best to run towards the staff table. Professors who’d been in the isles between the tables were swept up in the thrum, unable to fire spells as they were shoved back.

Evan and I acted as one, jumping up and then on the table, making sure we were looking towards Alexis who still had her eyes on me, following me as I moved.

I heard a sound, then caught sight of a set of chains as they flew up and sailed down, rattling as they hurtled towards Alexis. She didn’t seem angry, didn’t seem like a Bogeyman. Instead she was just looking at me.

Before the chains could hit her, she threw back her tattoo gun. As the chains slammed into her, forcing her back, she broke apart into ink, suddenly sucked towards her tattoo gun where she congealed into a humanoid figure. She threw the gun, turning into ink and being pulled along, disappearing.

Travelling like the Barber.

“That was…” said Evan.

“Yeah,” I said, swallowing. Was she deranged, now? Had the Abyss consumed her humanity? But then she hadn’t seemed like it. She was just…

The jostling started to calm down since she’d disappeared, with the Professors starting to regain order. Dumbledore said something before he disappeared, appearing again at the door to the Great Hall. He followed after Alexis.

“We have to go help her,” I said, and Evan didn’t question it. We were already moving, jumping down from table and using the lingering disorder to our advantage. Evan caught my hand and pulled, getting me through easier.

I followed him, ducking low when he did. We went under the table, using that to move until we found kids that were hiding there and pulled out. We pushed past the other students until the resistance disappeared. We took off.

“Stop! Stop!” I heard, but we’d already turned, chasing after Dumbledore.

“Do you know where she went?” Evan asked, breathing a little hard as we climbed up a short flight of stairs.

“Common room,” I said, leading and turning into a hall. It just felt right: How had she found me in the Great Hall, when this castle could be a pain in the ass when it wanted to? How had she found me in the Great Hall amongst all those faces?

Alexis and I were connected. I’d cast off memories of her when I’d been nothing but a sliver, and our connections had been severed by Ur, but we had a connection. She’d been weak, close to death and I’d given her some of the Spirits that filled me up. It had meant I could sense her, see into her, and maybe she was using a bit of that connection?

We turned a corner and Dumbledore was there, finishing off a spell that sent a wave of fire towards a knight Bogeyman. The knight stood three times taller than Dumbledore and wore heavy armour, carrying a longsword and a heavy shield, all of them rusted and smeared with blood. The knight brought the shield forward, turning it at an angle and redirecting the fire into a wall where it wiped out some paintings.

The knight took a step, swinging his sword and it was stopped by a white shield. The shield flickered out and a red spell flew true, hitting the knight and relieved him of his sword and shield. Slivers of white light erupted from Dumbledore’s wand, trying to catch the knight, but even with the armour the Bogeyman was nimble. He moved to the side and then rushed forward in a charge.

Dumbledore took a step back, disappearing and appearing behind the knight; water erupted from his wand, hitting the floor. The knight, who’d been trying to take his sword, slipped, falling face first. The moment his arms touched the water, it jumped, wrapping him in a cocoon. Water became crystal.

The wall beside Dumbledore disappeared and an ugly Faerie appeared, bony hand grabbing Dumbledore by the neck. It opened its mouth, sharp teeth moving to bite before fire erupted and a bird swooped down, crashing into both of them and disappearing them all in a burst of flame.

A tattoo gun fell from one of the remaining paintings, landing tip first. It whirred, ink spilling out and rising up into a humanoid figure. Alexis smiled, not showing her teeth.

“Hello, Blake,” she said, her voice raspy, like she’d had her throat ripped out. She probably had and it was because of me. I’d been the one selfish enough to induct her into this life.

“Is this really you?” I said, my voice hollow. “I saw you die.”

She shrugged, smiling, still not showing her teeth. “It’s very hard to die in the Abyss,” she said. “You just lose bits of yourself.”

“People are coming,” said Evan. I listened and I could hear footsteps and something else, a clomping.

“Are we safe with you?” I asked, feeling my stomach twist. “I’m sorry to ask this—”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I get it. What we did to you, isn’t it? Didn’t trust the person you told us you were?”

“Yeah.”

She sighed. “I’ve been sent here by the Abyss.” The footsteps were louder now. “Something happened. Something very powerful pulled and it shifted everything. Protections were messed up and someone broke loose.”

“The Barber?” I said, because that felt right, that shitty turn.

She shook her head. “A lawyer of the firm, Ms Lewis.”

 _“Fuck_ me,” said Evan. “She isn’t dead?”

“The Abyss doesn’t kill, it only changes,” said Alexis. “Ms Lewis isn’t a practitioner anymore. She can’t call names and summon _them_. But she can give those names to others, and she’s been trying to leave the Abyss since whatever pulled her shuffled things around.”

I caught something in the corner of my eye and could see two teachers—Professor Flitwick, who was standing on a table that was galloping ahead of Professor Snape. I caught it when he saw Evan and me, his wand moving and threads of white rope shooting out.

“Stay safe,” I said and she nodded, throwing her tattoo gun into a painting and then being pulled into it.

The white ropes grabbed and then pulled, throwing us on the table which was now larger, spells on the thing to keep us from falling off. The chair lurched to a stop and would have thrown me if it were not for the spell. It turned while Snape continued forward, turning into the hall we’d been looking toward his wand already pointed. He stopped for a moment, taking in everything before he turned and chased after us.

I’d seen Dumbledore’s fight with the Bogyman, what he could pull off. Snape could maybe do the same if at a lower level. How long would Alexis survive if she faced against a wizard or witch?

Selfish as it was, I _really_ wanted Rose to Awaken now, just so I could make sure that Alexis could be safe and happy, even as a Bogeyman.


	21. Chapter 21

**Harry**

A portion of the fourth floor was cordoned off by two Aurors standing guard in front of a wall of golden light. It shimmered, almost like sand was caught within and shifting about an amber liquid. It was one of the more powerful Shielding Charms that existed, _complicated_ as hell but of the same tier used in making Wizarding prisons.

Once upon a time I’d tried to learn it.

After the war, the fame that had been dimming since attending Hogwarts had been re-ignited. I’d taken out a problem that had slowly been spreading onto the international level. As a result, people had looked up to me, wanted to meet me and that had gotten tiring after a while. I’d wanted to pull away from anything that might mean meeting too many people, and my parents’ house had seemed like the ideal refuge.

I’d started to break up the foundation, learning the complicated bits of magic it would take to rebuild, wanting to do it all myself. After people tried to accost me in what I felt was a sacred place one too many times, I’d tried to learn the spell at the height of anger. It would have let me control access and it would be near impossible for the passing fan to be able to break through it.

It went without saying that things hadn’t worked out. It was just too much work to be fuelled solely by anger.

“Going all out,” I said as I got close to the pair.

 _“Peeves,”_ said one of them and I snorted.

“Has he been around here?” I asked. The place was bare, no portraits, suits of armour or statues.

“Five times,” the Auror said. He was the larger of the two, with a slight slouch to him. “Him and some Gryffindor boys the first few times.”

“Fred and George Weasley?” I said.

“You know them?” said the second Auror. The man tall and thin, the sort of thin that made me scared that if he moved too fast his bones would break, even though I knew bones didn’t work like that.

“I’ve heard about them. Haven’t had the pleasure of teaching them, yet, but I’m sure it’ll be an experience.”

“If this mission was anything to go by, I’d be on my guard,” said the larger Auror. “Very good at enchanting objects to throw themselves at you.”

“Sounds like them,” I said.

“You’re grinning,” said the thin Auror.

I let out a chuckle. “Reminds me of my own youth,” I said. “I don’t know if Thomas Calvert told you…?”

“Of course,” said the thinner Auror. He pulled out a long rod with a bulb on top. “You know what this is?” I nodded and stood with my arms and legs apart. He waved it over me and it beeped at times but he didn’t stop, kept moving all over my body until he finished.

He pulled out a piece of parchment and tapped it with the probe, words appearing. The Auror read them over before he nodded to his taller compatriot. The man pulled out a knife.

I smiled. “You’re one of Thomas’ people?” I said.

He stood straighter, shoulders squared. “Yeah, I’m a Squib,” he said. “Got a problem with that?”

I shook my head. “Just interested in what he did,” I said. “It’s…I’m a little ashamed to admit it’s something I hadn’t thought about before, what life might be like if you’re born into magic but don’t have it.”

He shrugged. “Easy to miss when you’re not the one experiencing it,” he said. “Can we get this done?”

“Yeah. Sure.” He sliced my palm and the blood was sucked into the knife as the wound knit back together. He stabbed the blade into the shield and a red ripple spread throughout, disappearing as it hit the edges.

“You can go through,” he said.

I nodded and moved through what felt like syrup. The work they’d put in was surprising. The hallway had been enlarged to fit a fifty-man team, with a mix of Aurors and Unspeakables moving from point to point, looking at metal tablets, mirrors or talking to portraits.

There was a cluster of Aurors listening to a grizzled old man standing in front of them. Thomas stood nearest him with a group of three other Aurors who were far enough away from the others I assumed they must be senior. There must have been a spell to hide what he was saying because even as I went closer I couldn’t hear him.

“Professor Brown,” said Rosalyn Thorburn. She waved away the young woman she’d been talking to. The woman took her abrupt dismissal surprisingly well, going off while muttering something to a quill and parchment that hovered beside her. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Thomas invited me,” I said. “I hope that’s allowed.”

“If you’re willing to put up with the danger, then it’s up to you,” she said. An Unspeakable walked up to her, young and shaking. She shot him a glare and he stopped, turned and walked away. Rosalyn shook her head in disappointment. “This generation,” she said.

“Such an old person thing to say.”

She snorted. “I’m in the prime of my youth,” she said, “and I won’t hear otherwise.”

“Ma’am,” another Unspeakable said with confidence in her voice. “We’re ready.”

“Go tell the Aurors,” she said. “We’re waiting for them at this point.”

The woman nodded and moved off.

“This is exciting, isn’t it?” she said. “New magical creatures, perhaps another magical world? It puts current theories on the formation of magical beasts into question.”

I moved my hand over my head.

She sighed. “I wonder why Dumbledore’s seen fit to send you here if all of this is above you,” she said.

“Must want to live vicariously through me,” I said with a shrug.

“Kids are the best way to do that. Makes me wonder, are you a bastard of his?”

“Um…No. Dumbledore’s gay. I thought people knew this.”

“Perhaps he dabbled,” she said, smiling.

“I…don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Oh, I know,” she said. “Something that comes with age is you figure out these things. You’re blushing, Professor Brown.”

“Because I’m uncomfortable with all of this,” I told her. “Can we move on, please? I don’t like imagining Dumbledore…”

She chuckled. “It seems we have to,” she said. “The Aurors have finally seen to deign us with their presence.”

The grizzled Auror, Thomas and the three other important Aurors were coming our way.

“A civilian?” said the grizzled Auror.

“Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts,” said Thomas. “I invited him. I told you, sir.”

“Did you?”

“He did, sir,” said one of the important Aurors.

The grizzled Auror nodded. “You’ll be going in?” I nodded. “Have you been in combat before? In unknown terrain?”

I nodded. “Helped find and rescue people from giants,” I told him. Even with a team that had been twenty strong it had been hard. Voldemort’s war had rippled throughout the world, with magical beings wanting to shuck off the restriction of the Statute of Secrecy. This cluster of giants had liked eating people and they’d attacked a town surrounded by mountains, kidnapping a lot of people. We’d had to step in, save the captives, and apprehend the giants’ leader in the hope the others would scatter.

The grizzled Auror hummed, looking me over. “We don’t know what we’re stepping into in there,” he said. “But if you think you can handle it… Daniel, the waiver.”

“Yes, sir,” one of the three said. Parchment sprang from his pocket and floated in front of me. He gave me a quill. “Standard waiver. You’re doing this of your own free will and we aren’t culpable if you die.”

I signed it.

Thomas smiled, clapping me on the back. “Good to see you here,” he said.

“Is the Squib Squad here?” I asked. “They were impressive the last time.” There were a few chuckles from a group of Aurors. They were laughing at us.

“No,” said Thomas, looking uncomfortable. “They’re staying out of this one. The enchantments on their weapons are being looked over and being reapplied as needed.”

That felt like something of a lie.

“All well and good but we should get started,” said Rosalyn.

“Thomas,” said the grizzled Auror.

“I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly, sir.”

“I’ll be off,” the man said. “Rosalyn, it was good to see you.”

“As always,” said Rosalyn. The grizzled Auror nodded and left with his retinue.

“Game faces,” said Thomas. “We’ll be going in in five minutes. I want enchantment checks. Andrea, Callahan, Lee and Mulciber, your draughts.”

The four people named nodded, pulled out vials of green liquid and downed them.

Thomas was grinning, filled with energy—which felt off. He’d talked to Dumbledore, given him memories of a past life where he’d been something of a bad guy. Yet here he was, going through everything without a worry in the world. Did I tell him that I knew? Or would that mess him up?

Better to just go along with it for now and find the right time to lay things out on the table later.

There were twenty Aurors in total. Ten escorting five Unspeakables into the door. The role of the Aurors was mainly protection while the Unspeakables would be studying things. They’d also be trying to capture as many of the creatures as they could to study. I was there mainly to experience everything. It honestly didn’t make sense for them to let me in because I was an unknown variable, but they could be doing this to get in Dumbledore’s good books. The remaining ten Aurors would stand guard outside in case anything got out.

“Brown,” he said. “Got a uniform for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said.

I took the time to change, putting on the accessories enchanted with protective enchantments. By the time I was done, they’d opened the door and were peering through it.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“It’s different,” said Rosalyn. I neared and it was: the hallway was thinner, the bookcases more robust and filled with larger, thicker volumes. There were dim electric lights spaced out along the hallway that ended in a dark room. There were niches among the bookshelves, dark things the flickering light didn’t reach.

“Closer spaces make things harder,” said Thomas. “Judging by the look it, we’ll be lucky to have three people side by side.”

“Do we have any spatial grenades?” said Rosalyn.

“We do, ma’am,” said one of her Unspeakables. “But they’re still prototypes. There’ve been—”

“I know the risks,” said Rosalyn. “Let’s make sure you throw it very far.”

“Lee,” said Thomas. A woman stepped forward and took a tennis ball-sized silver orb with an indentation at the top.

“Just press it and throw,” said the Unspeakable.

Auror Lee took the grenade, pressed the top and ran a little before she threw. The grenade sailed into the hallway, bounced a few times before it settled. The thing glowed yellow and there was a pulse, a deep rumble audible through the door. The bookcases shook, a tremor that moved through them dropping books on the floor. Monsters spilled out in the tide.

There was no loyalty to them. They saw each other and pounced. Claws swiping and catching flesh, so deep they became drenched in blood; teeth bit and pulled, ripping out chunks of flesh; and knives came up, stabbing or slicing the nearest target. It was feral, ugly and it turned my stomach. The lights went off for several seconds before returning to reveal a tall woman standing in the room at the end, watching the fighting in the hallway.

She put one long finger to her mouth.

“SHHH!”

The lights went off and when they returned, the floor was empty.

“Fuck, no.” I turned. It was an Unspeakable stumbling back, shaking his head. He swallowed, looking at Rosalyn. “I know it’ll cost me, but I’m not going in there.”

“You’re a disappointment,” said Rosalyn. As scared as the man was, the words brought him close to tears. Head down, he walked away. “Anyone else?”

No one moved.

“Mr Calvert,” she said.

“Portkey first, then detectors,” said Thomas.

An Auror threw a marble into the room. It rolled to a stop before glowing blue and then sparked, crackling. The lights flicked off and back on. The blue light had faded, but the marble was still on the floor.

“Because of course it can’t be easy,” an Auror muttered.

Another Auror stepped forward and shot a spell, then another, then three more in quick succession.

“Negative on Human-Revealment Charm,” the man said. “Not finding any heat. I get the dimensions, but they’re screwy. It’s shifting like Hogwarts and in some places it’s almost _fighting back_ against the spell.”

“Fighting back?” said Rosalyn. She pulled out her wand and fired off a spell. “Huh. Yes. This place has a more guided intelligence than Hogwarts.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” she said. “It’s too little information. But at a guess, it means a lot of spells were used to make it, most of them malevolent going by the nature its already presented to us.”

“Are we sensing any beings?” said Thomas. “Do we have advanced warning when they’ll come?” The Auror shook his head. Thomas sighed, running a hand over his face. “Andrea and Copperfield, front and back. Andrea, you’ll lead us in, Copperfield, make sure that no one catches us from behind. We’re cutting down the number of Unspeakables coming in to two, less people to protect.”

“Myself and Harlow,” said Rosalyn. A man, early fifties, nodded, squaring his shoulders.

“You two will stay close to me and Professor Brown,” said Thomas.

I shook my head. “I don’t think I should be protecting anyone.”

“My men work well as a unit,” he said. “You’ll get in their way if you try to help them. Protecting someone will do you good.”

“I’ll stay close, Professor,” said Harlow. “Follow orders.”

I swallowed. “I don’t think—”

“We’ll be in a line,” said Thomas, ignoring me. “Unspeakables in the middle, with me and Brown at either end. The rest of you will wrap around us.”

“Means we’ll need an extra Auror.”

“Johansson,” said Thomas and an Auror stepped forward.

“Ma’am,” said the scared Unspeakable from before. Rosalyn turned and the man shrank back. “I…I have something, but I’m not sure it’ll work.”

“Show me,” Rosalyn said.

He pointed his wand and vial of liquid a silver bowl flew out of a bag that was resting on a worktable behind us. He grabbed the vial and gave it to Auror Lee.

“Throw, please,” the Unspeakable said.

Auror Lee threw. When the vial broke, it released a gas that spread to the edges of the hallway, seeping into every space and into the books. Water leapt out of the bowl and filled the same dimensions as the gas. Spots of it turned red, revealing humanoid figures.

We now had a map of the monster.

The lights flicked off and the image broke.

“Can you get it back?” Rosalyn asked. The man shook his head. “Good try, at the very least. Remind me to get people to start working on that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the man said, nodding his head vigorously.

“Move out,” said Thomas.

***

“Depulso!”

The spell ripped through the bookcases, but they didn’t budge. The books were merely jostled, and the few that fell spewed monsters from their pages. A dozen hairy toddlers moving on all fours, pushing themselves forward on clawed hands, came for us. When one bumped into another, the pair fought, leaving fewer to press their attack.

Andrea sent a sweeping light riding forward and crashing into the things. They were bowled over, sent tumbling back before being hoisted into the air. Andrea pulled and all of them surged in our direction over our heads and out of the hallway, into waiting silver balls that burst into light.

“Place is getting smarter,” Rosalyn said.

“In,” said Thomas. “We’ll stop in the foyer.”

We moved.

Harlow was in front of me and ahead of him was Rosalyn and then Thomas, while on either side of me were Aurors, with Copperfield closing things off behind me. Both Unspeakables had their wands out, running them through the air. The Aurors around us were switched between watching the books and the ceiling. There were spaces there for something to hang, but with the balls of light bobbing in the rafters monsters hadn’t appeared.

We weren’t supposed to depend on those lights given how this place had worked last time.

“Sir,” said an Auror. We’d been moving a bit but the door to Hogwarts was still close. We stopped, turning to face where his wand was pointed. A book: _Tales of Conquest: The Seduction of Nora Gable._

“Mind games,” said Rosalyn. “Like the children.”

“Master-Thinker protocols,” said Thomas. “Disregard anything that you read. But don’t take your attention away from the books.”

Auror Gable took a lingering look at the book as we moved. The Unspeakables hadn’t stopped moving their wands, and Harlow muttered under his breath at times.

There was no sound save our footsteps and heavy breathing that was coming from me. The further in we moved, the heavier the air felt. The musty smell of damp books that had stayed in an airless room until they’d dried was oppressive, and it called my attention towards the books every few seconds.

The exit was further away and the hallway stretched further than it had looked to from the door.

_Dark Lord Saga: Voldemort’s Return._

I stopped and Copperfield behind hit me. He’d been looking up, not expecting me so close. The jostle stopped the ground, all of them looking at me. I swallowed, looking beside it: _Dormancy, or How Voldemort Learned to Reign It In._

“Professor Brown?” said Harlow.

_The Case of the Disappeared Basilisk._

“James,” said Thomas. I looked towards him. “It’s playing you. We’re moving.”

_Into the Mind of a Killer: Tom Marvolo Riddle._

I swallowed again, pushing myself forward.

 _‘He said he’d never leave,’_ I caught the back of a book say, Ginny’s picture on it. _‘But he always liked his adventures.’_

Ginny. I’d left her once to deal with Voldemort and now I’d left her again. Ron had been right, not wanting us to be together. It was inevitable that I’d hurt her.

_Back to the Future: Pathways through Time._

There was an Auror shielding me from the bookcases, yet his eyes seemed to glide over every book I saw.

The lights went off, even the magical balls of light in the air. Shields flicked on, a massive network of overlapping barriers. A hand peeked from the books to my right, swiping and catching only shields. Aurors Bernard to my left and Auror Casey to my right; Auror Casey flicked off his shield and fired a spell, a curse that caught a book and turned it to dust. Other monsters crawled out at the sound and he put his shield back up.

“Tay,” I heard. “Minimise playing with shields. Spells that start outside the effect.”

More monsters spilled from the cases, crashing into our shields and causing cracks of red light to form. The tempo the spells were cast changed, the shields stayed on and there were flashes of light, but the spells weren’t as powerful. I hadn’t even fired a spell yet because this wasn’t how I was used to fighting.

We kept moving forward, with only the light from our shields. Monsters were above, attacking the shields and attacking each other, their weight pressing down and spreading the red marks. I caught sight of something standing on the rafters, two monkey-like things and they were carrying small cupboards.

“Depulso!” I said as they both hurled their cupboards. The things were hurtled back, crashing into the monkey and breaking apart; books rained down on us and vomited more monsters, these larger with longer arms that caused more damage to our shields.

“Bombarda!” Andrea shouted, flicking her shield on and off in quick succession. Even so, the smaller monsters managed to get through, forcing her, Thomas and the two other Aurors at the front to stop to deal with monsters in our shields.

I caught sight of an explosion and saw a large man, so tall he had to bend not to reach the rafters, fall back. Monsters spilled out of the woodwork, swarming the tall monsters. The thing turned from coming at us to fighting off the smaller creatures.

“Keep moving!” said Thomas and something heavy landed on our shields. An Orangutan with too large fists. It fell and the damage to my portion of the shield spread, getting fiercer.

Dangerous as it was, I flicked off my shield so I could blast the monkey into the rafters. Something jumped at me, a form indistinct in the darkness, and with a wave of my wand I struck it back into a bookcase, where it was snapped up by reaching fingers.

I activated my shield, still moving with the group.

_Okay. You didn’t mess up. You can do this._

A glance at Harlow and he was still calm, working his wand, swirls of colour spilling out. The Aurors were favouring conjurations more and I could do that even if it wasn’t something I was especially good at.

I conjured knives with a flick of my wand, sending them flying in every direction and stabbing into the monsters, forcing some off the shield. There was no style, no finesse, no creativity in using a variety of spells. I was just looking for something that worked.

The lights flicked on and the tall woman was in the antechamber.

“SHHH!”

Darkness descended and a silence spread. The shield crackling the loudest broke with a crack. An Auror whose name I couldn’t remember was left bare. Monsters jumped at him and he fired a spell, hissing as it passed through the air. The bookcase closest to him toppled. He called up a shield but it quickly broke under the mass of monsters.

“Protego,” I said, and I wasn’t the only one. Three overlapping shields formed, but some of the monsters had slipped through. Our overlapping shield network was keeping the Auror and the monsters from getting close. A mistake in how the shields had been built.

He fired at his leg but another jumped from a blind spot, biting into him. He screamed and more monsters emerged, bigger and bigger.

Another Auror deactivated his shield to fight the creatures but he was swarmed in turn, forced to bring up his shield to stop the worst of the attack.

A snake of fire spurted to life, coiling and then lunging close to the Auror. It attacked the creatures and they burnt like kindle, giving the Auror more room to go on the attack, push more and more of the monsters back

“Focus on protecting the man,” I told the snake and even with it being another’s conjuration, it listened. As it beat monsters back with its bulk, it sucked up the very fire it was producing to get bigger and bigger.

Three Aurors had deactivated their shields and fired a rope of white light that wound around the Auror without a shield into the middle of our group. I was forced to shift out to the edge of the group, closer to the bookcases.

 _‘He always had a saving people thing.’ -Hermione Granger_.

When they activated their shields again, the man was protected by the overlapping bubbles.

The man was breathing hard, face bloody and his wand hand shaking. The snake still fought as we moved forward, even though it was targeted by more monsters. Ink spilled from the rafters, engulfing the snake and snuffing it out, plunging us into darkness again.

We reached the antechamber and the lights came on.

***

“Rose,” said Harlow and it was eerie how calm he sounded, not even out of breath.

I was breathing hard, my eyes on the Auror on the ground. The man was bleeding, scrapes visible on his legs through his torn robes. Another Auror stood over him, alternating between healing with her wand and giving the hurt Auror potions.

“It’s not healing,” the man on the ground said. “Fuckin’ still hurts.”

“Grit through it,” said Thomas, whispering, “and stay quiet. Whisper if you have to speak.”

Rosalyn and Harlow were looking up. Their wands hadn’t stopped moving the entire time.

The antechamber was large and circular, with four hallway entrances on either side of the one we’d used to get in. Behind us was a large staircase I hadn’t seen coming in, and on the first landing, the staircase split to the left and right, leading to a mezzanine. A singular bookcase was stuck to the wall of the mezzanine, rising a storey up. The only break in the bookcase was to open space for a door, and above the door hung a long portrait of an imperious looking Rosalyn Thorburn.

“Alert,” said an Auror.

I turned and a girl stood on the landing above us. She was tall and pale, and the darkness grew more harrowing the more I looked at it; her features were stretched, her skin was too tight against her skull and her jaw warped so she looked even more monstrous. The girl wore a bell for a dress, with the top of the bell starting at her neck and falling on the ground so it hid her legs.

“Grandmother,” the girl said, directing a livid expression at Rosalyn. Her voice had the tang of a bell, with an aftereffect that left the light flickering.

“More,” another Auror said.

In the space where the lights were flickering more monsters were appearing. A knight carrying a large sword and shield; a girl made of ink but who looked more human the more time passed; a girl made entirely out of dirty paper, carrying a scarred book made of leather.

“Grandmother?” said Rosalyn. “You mean me?”

“You don’t recognise me? When you ruined my life? You really are a bitch, aren’t you?” said the girl with the bell dress.

With each word the lights flickered and more monsters appeared: a man whose lower half was that of a worm, his mouth a circular maw with tongues spilling out; an ugly woman who’d worked so hard to seem beautiful she looked like a doll; a girl with hair covering her face, carrying a sword; a woman who was largely bandaged save one eye; and a large woman, her face stuck in a snarl. She wore a school uniform—grey jacket, shorts, socks that rose to her knees, and muddy black shoes—and children, all of them young, were leashed to her side by chains. It was stupid, especially with how monstrous the others were, but the woman with the children looked a little like a young Aunt Marge and that unsettled me even more.

“You’re being obtuse,” said Rosalyn. “If you—” Rosalyn stopped as the girl’s face warped, lines getting darker and hair moving to a wind I couldn’t feel. She opened her mouth to scream and the toll of a bell sounded.

Everything went dark and we activated our shields. Something fell, large and heavy, light flicking off as it broke through our shields. We had only moments to react and most of us jumped out of the way, with me grabbing and pulling Harlow along. We’d spread out and I could see three Aurors, the others hidden by the beast.

It moved, arms and tails flicking. I brought up a shield large enough to block me and Harlow from the brunt of its attacks. It had short legs, spread far apart and as it stood it didn’t rise all that much. It turned but the motion was slow, not as much trouble as the tails that smacked into my shields at times and let out lines of red light.

A look up showed the monsters had shifted. The one that looked like Aunt Marge had three fewer children. I could see the paper girl with large wings flying in the darkness, and the knight was clambering on the mezzanine, ready to attack.

“Chains!” I heard and I fired a length of chain with a sharp end flying over the monster and biting onto the other side. A little flick and the end connected to my wand sank in the floor. Other chains flew from the intermittent darkness, hooks sunk deep into the ground and kept the monster from moving. I used another chain to catch some of the others’ chains and anchor the monster to the ground.

With the large monster caught, the others in the periphery moved. Children climbed onto the balustrade and jumped off, coming for me and Harlow. A flick of my wand and knives exploded into being, sinking into most of the kids. Those I hit dropped and had trouble getting up, while the others were spry, already on their feet and coming at me. I struck and a swirl of colour rushed out of my wand, crashing into the kids and pushed them back. They tried to get up finding their legs weren’t working.

I saw a torrent of paper and directed a stream of fire at it. The paper spread, using the heat from the fire to get higher. The worm man appeared, lunging at me and Harlow.

“Bombarda!”

A chunk of the worm’s side blew up, blood spilling out and forcing it back.

I grunted and stumbled back as something hit my shoulder. At the sign of weakness a stick figure of a man lunged in my direction. He was caught by chains, his momentum weened away and he crashed into the floor. I pointed my wand at my shoulder to numb the pain and continued forward. Someone behind me made a fire and I could see the glint of a knife coming at me, a monster using my own knives to attack me. I brought up a shielding charm, deactivated it and shot out a spell.

I hit the balcony of the mezzanine and it blew out, rubble hitting some of the monsters. I brought up my wand and the debris rose, moving around at speed and hitting anything it could. It didn’t stop and picked up more speed the more it moved, flying around the mezzanine.

“Incendio!”

A wave of fire flashed, hitting approaching monsters. An Auror was down, being attacked by monsters. I fired spells, blasting the monsters back. I ran for the Auror, pulling Harlow with me. The man stumbled, still enraptured with casting his Unspeakable spells.

“Come on!” I said, offering one hand and firing at a mass of rats that spilled from the mezzanine with the other. A cat-like monster was leaning on the balustrade and vomiting out the tide of rats. The Auror stood and was blasted back by a curse that cast off his skin, which fell to the ground with a wet slap. Beneath the skin was a monster, tall and thin, with pale skin and an ugly maw.

The monster hissed, barring too large teeth only to be smacked by a spell.

The bell tolled again and there were more monsters. I slashed, a wave of fire appeared that beat five monsters back. Another flick, another wave of knives. One of the monsters was made of ink and the knives only pushed through it as it ran forward. A surge of water appeared, crashing into the ink monster and washing it away.

I caught sight of a green spell that looked like a Killing Curse and it struck a giant of a man, meaty and scarred. The monster fell and didn’t get up.

“Protect our way out!” I heard Thomas’ voice. “They’re swarming it.”

Another wave of fire surged toward the exit, stopped by a massive shield. The monsters were working together, getting into the exit and looking to swarm the hallway.

“Expecto Patronum,” I said and the stag was bright, galloping towards the exit. It moved to the monsters, spearing through one and throwing it aside.

“Patronuses!”

Another stag, a cat, a snake, a vulture and a horse. They flew out and around us, moving through some monster and keeping others back. Their light was bright, brighter even than the fires still raging in places.

Rosalyn’s cat and my stag were fighting the girl with the bell-dress, hitting her as she fought back with bursts of wind. The girl did something and our Patronuses were pushed away, only to charge back at her. The girl had her mouth open in a scream but no sound came out. Had someone hit her with a Quieting Charm?

“She’s a ghost!” I heard Rosalyn say. “Capture her!”

I blasted some monsters with another wave of light. Harlow and I moved, running to get a better view of the bell girl and he tripped, hands grabbing at his legs and pulling.

“Relashio! Reducto!”

The hands loosed and half the woman’s face was blown off.

He got up and I fired a rope of white light towards the girl, grabbing her arms. I wasn’t the only one, two more threads of rope bound her, pulling. A silver ball flew through the air and after a flash of light, the girl disappeared.

There was another flash of light and the monster bound by chains disappeared.

“Heading back!” said Thomas.

There’d been fourteen of us at the start. Eleven Aurors, Rosalyn and Harlow, and then me. But as we got back together, there were five Aurors, all of them breathing hard.

“Incendio,” said Thomas and fire rushed into the hallway, burning everything before it disappeared. The bookcases were husks, all of the books were gone and remnants of the monsters lay unmoving on the floor.

We hurried through, looking at the rafters and firing at anything that moved. But the monsters were few and far between. We got to the exit, spotting blood and bloodied Aurors, Unspeakables leaning against walls.

I looked for the dead and there were none, thankfully, but people had either been cut or had pockmarks from spells. Some were covered with too much blood.

“Worst news first,” said Thomas, breathing hard but still with some composure.

“About ten got out,” said an Auror, on the young side but the oldest one here. “They moved through the portraits to get around. Three just took the form of some of the Unspeakables and ran out of our shields. We couldn’t—”

“Sir.”

I turned. Auror Gable was still near the door. He looked strange, with the hard, clearly delineated edges of a cartoon. His robes were all wrong, too much colour. I could see a book sticking out of his robes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I took it. I shouldn’t have, but it was there and I took it.”

He pulled out the book.

 _A Good Fuck, by Nora Gable_.

The cover page was a woman on her back, above her one of the Aurors. I looked at the crowd and the man on the cover was one of the dead.

“I think he may be one of them,” said Harlow, still with that calm tone to his voice.

A red spell shot out and Gable’s wand flew out of his grasp. He didn’t fight, blue tears spilling from round eyes.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I just…He just…It made sense and…”

“It’s okay, son,” said Thomas. He pulled free a ball and threw it. Auror Gable disappeared with a flash of blue light. “You called reinforcements?”

The young Auror nodded.

“I don’t think any of us are fit to fight,” he said. “Brown. You were sending word to Dumbledore?”

I nodded.

He pulled out his watch. “We’ll trust he’s keeping the students safe,” he said. “Unspeakables. Close this door down. All the enchantments you can put up.”

The Unspeakables looked at Rosalyn.

“Yes,” she said and it sounded like the words were hard to say. “A pity, but it’s too dangerous, especially in a school.”

“I should go out. Search for the—”

“No,” said Thomas. “Master-Stranger Protocols.”

I shook my head.

“Means we won’t be leaving for a good few hours,” said an Auror, letting themselves fall down.

Thomas nodded. “That place took Gable. Who’s to say it didn’t take any of us, or the form takers aren’t still here?” He sighed. “Be on alert in case anyone else comes out, but until we’re dispatched, no one’s leaving.”

***

It had been three hours and I could feel the Polyjuice starting to fade.

Master-Stranger Protocols meant a lot of sitting around being tested, questions being asked and blood being taken. Unfortunately for me, the only person who really knew me was Dumbledore and he’d been hurt by one of the monsters. Snape and McGonagall were other such people, but they were busy ensuring the safety of the students. Until then, I was wandless, watching as others were healed.

“Thomas,” I said. The man had been cleared and was watching over everything, talking to his superiors. “A word.”

I’d been partially tested and there was nothing odd, but they were still waiting for the knowledge test. The protocols said it was better to test long-term memories, spanning years instead of weeks. Rosalyn and Thomas couldn’t be the ones who asked me because I’d only met them yesterday.

“Sorry,” he said. “I thought this would be a lighter mission.”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter,” I said. “Right now, I need help. I take Polyjuice and it’s fading.”

“I thought your hair was different,” he said. “I can’t hide you. That’ll look suspicious.”

“I need you to tell Snape or McGonagall to get here before the potion’s out of my system,” I told him.

He nodded and a ghostly snake flew out, disappearing.

My vision was blurry as Snape arrived, my robes a little roomier. “What’s the form of my Patronus?” Snape asked.

“A doe.”

“It’s him,” said Snape. He foisted something into my hand and walked away. I took a breath after taking a gulp and my vision returned. Thomas looked at me with keen eyes.

“It’s complicated,” I said before he could ask.

He shrugged. “Not gonna ask. Let’s get a drink after this,” he said. “I think we all deserve it.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Blake**

Dumbledore’s office was full of _stuff._

I’d spent some time on the streets, watching people treat what they had like shit: cars that weren’t cleaned, people not putting in the effort to fix something that would have taken a few seconds, a general sense of not giving a shit about keepsakes.

I’d told myself that when I could afford stuff of my own, I’d take care of it.

I liked to think that I had. My apartment hadn’t been big, but it had been the way I liked it. I’d had my bike and when it had still been _mine_ it had been something I’d prized, a loss I still felt today.

I wasn’t so sure about Dumbledore. With how many things there were, he felt like a hoarder, taking in whatever he could without thinking about if he wanted it or if he needed it. It was even worse because the office would have been nice if he’d stuck to an aesthetic, working _with_ the architecture. The castle was old, built with geometric shapes in mind, butwhereas places like this would usually be small, it was big. I could see the office with heavy furniture, solid desks that had nothing save the essentials, with maybe a rug carpet for a bit of colour and some artwork—not too much or it might overpower everything.

Dumbledore had gone so far beyond the point of overpowering that his office felt _cramped._

Paintings of old people, maybe previous headmasters, lined a wall; next to the open window on another wall sat a bird perch above a bowl filled with soot; and there were three desks cluttered with whizzing, hissing, hooting, thrumming, growling and purring knickknacks. The Sorting Hat sat on its own stand; there was a glass cabinet with vials of glowing blue liquid; another glass cabinet filled with liquids of different colours; and then there were tall, thin bookcases filled to the brim with books.

“I miss my room,” I said. Evan stopped from looking at the paintings of sleeping old people and looked at me. I let out a sigh. “I miss…having my own place.”

“I get that,” said Evan. “Having your own rules.”

I nodded, hoping he really _got_ what I meant. I missed being an adult even if it had been hard. I missed the part where I could make stupid mistakes and I wouldn’t have to wait for anyone to talk down to me.

“That was a phoenix back there,” said Evan. I hummed, pitching the end up to form a question. “When Headmaster Dumbledore was fighting the…knight, and that other monster popped out of the wall. The bird.”

“Yeah,” I said.

Evan was grinning. “I’ll ask him how he got it,” he said.

I snorted, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. I knew it was stupid, that it wouldn’t work, but I imagined a line, a ribbon stretching from me to Alexis and I tugged. Maybe she’d feel it and stay close, not get into trouble.

The door at the back opened and McGonagall stepped in, her expression pinched. Her eyes were cold as she looked between me and Evan.

“Explain,” she said.

Evan swallowed, sitting back in his chair.

“We thought we could take it,” I lied. “We fought a monster before and we thought we’d be able to help Headmaster Dumbledore.”

“Do you _know_ how stupid that was?” she said. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?”

“We could have died?” said Evan, voice shaking a little.

 _“Yes,_ Mr Matthieu,” she said. “Yes, you could have and do you know what that means? It means your mothers and fathers losing you. It means having you _ripped_ out of their lives because of…of…I don’t even know. _Stupidity?_ These things are dangerous and you should _know_ this.” She looked at me. “For Merlin’s sake you were hurt the last time one of them attacked you.”

“I thought I could take it,” I said again. “And I pulled Evan into this.”

“Don’t lie to me, Mr Thorburn, I saw the both of you running,” she said. She let out a breath, eyes closing and holding onto a table to steady herself. “Do you know that these things successfully attacked Albus Dumbledore?” she said. “The most powerful wizard alive and he was hurt. Now he’s in _hospital_ being looked over by healers. Do you think that you’re so great that you might escape unscathed where he couldn’t?”

I swallowed. I hadn’t known that. Evan shook his head.

“A hundred points from Hufflepuff,” she said, “for each of you, and that’s on top of the month’s detention you’ll be serving. Come along, both of you. I’ll return you to your common room.”

Evan and I didn’t speak as McGonagall walked in a huff in front us, forcing us to jog to keep up. I spotted a form in the paintings, moving at the back and keeping out of the way of the other painting people that were watching us.

“Good night to the both of you,” said McGonagall, not even going in with us. Everyone was asleep except some sixth and seventh years, and seeing all of them immediately put me on edge. I’d been in similar situations before—picking a spot that just seemed too good and it didn’t make sense why other people weren’t there, then everything coming to a head at night. People appearing and beating me half to death.

With the sixth and seventh years here, it made me feel the same way except the threat was more obvious.

_Shoulders squared, chin up. Look mean and maybe they’ll go away._

“Wipe that expression off your face, Thorburn,” said a boy, tall and pale, hair styled back.

“Tactful as always,” said another, thinner boy with more delicate features and cornrows that reached the nape of his neck. “How many points did they dock?”

“Two hundred,” I said.

“Fuck,” said the boy with the slicked back hair. “Fuckin’ hell. How are we supposed to get those back?”

“We’ll be lucky if we aren’t last,” said a girl with a pixie cut. “Gryffindor will just love this.”

“All because of these little shits,” the boy with the slicked hair said, pointing at Evan and me. “Thinking that this is Gryffindor or some shit.”

“I don’t think that’ll get through to them,” said pixie girl.

“Is there some reason we’re still here?” I asked because this felt irritating, _petty._ There was just so much to think about and I was caught here by _this,_ schoolyard politics.

“Don’t get mouthy, Thorburn,” slicked-hair boy said. _“Fuck._ You do shit like this and you’re acting like you didn’t do anything wrong? People usually get this themselves, but maybe you need to have it spelled out for you. This isn’t Gryffindor or Slytherin. Here we don’t do stupid shit that’ll lose us house points.”

“We could have gotten killed and that’s all you care about?” I said, heat filling my voice. “Fuck that and fuck you.”

The boy pulled out his wand but a red spell flew out, wrenching his wand from his grasp. The boy with the cornrows caught the wand.

“We don’t attack people,” he said. “We talk to them, get them to understand what they did wrong.”

“I mean, I get why Anthony’s pissed,” said another boy. “I don’t think anything will get through to the Thorburn kid.”

“Then this doesn’t mean anything,” said the boy with the cornrows. “Get to sleep, both of you.”

“I feel like this isn’t over,” said Evan when we were out of the common room, walking down the hall that would lead to our bedroom.

“Yeah,” I said with a bit of resignation.

Wayne and Zacharias were up as we got in, excited expressions on their faces.

“What the _hell_ was that,” said Wayne. “You guys just ran after that monster.”

“We wanted another go,” said Evan, smiling a little. “But we didn’t get to fight because _Dumbledore_ was fighting one.”

“What?” said Wayne.

“Tell us everything,” said Zacharias.

“I already know this so I’m going to sleep,” I said.

“Night, Blake,” the others said. I changed into my pyjamas and lay back: Alexis was still out there and she was close, skulking in paintings. No doubt Aurors would be looking for her and others like her, increasing the chance of her getting hurt.

But worse than that was Ms Lewis. She didn’t have the power of a Diabolist but she still had all that knowledge, able to give it to anyone and call in things that would make the world an objectively worse place to live in. The question, though, was whether she _would_.

I tried to consider the person she was and I really didn’t know her all that well. Every time we’d met, she’d been nice; even when we’d been adversaries I hadn’t outright hated her, only the things she was working for. There was the chance that she was a person who’d made a mistake, had to use the out being a lawyer provided to stop herself from meeting fates worse than death. But I reminded myself, even before all of that she was a Diabolist and no one who wanted to make the world _good_ used that sort of power.

Sleep got me between thoughts and the next thing I knew I was waking up. Evan and I were the last people awake, the others having already left for the Great Hall.

“Hey, Calvin,” said Evan, running to a second-year boy. Calvin’s eyes bulged and he blushed, looking around and stopping at the older years. “Where are the others?”

Calvin opened his mouth, closed it tightly, then walked away.

Everyone in the common room was looking a little down, with a few of the kids looking _expectant,_ almost happy when they saw Calvin walking away. More than a few pairs of eyes were cast away when I looked towards them but I could see the boy with the slicked back hair directing a smug grin in my direction.

“Blake?” said Evan, looking at me, his eyes wide.

“They told people to ignore us,” I said to him, fists clenched. It was petty, but I knew this sort of thing could be effective. I didn’t like to think about it, but I’d been part of a cult once, with girls being sent my way so I could have an artificial sort of happiness.

At a certain point, things had felt wrong and I’d said something. After that, I’d read up a lot on cults, not wanting to ever be caught up in something like that again. _This_ was something cult leaders did, controlled a person’s place in the group by having others not talk to them when they did something wrong, and rewarded them with social interaction when they did the right thing.

Evan wouldn’t know about this, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have the same defences. It was easy to forget sometimes that even with the reincarnation shit going on, Evan was still a kid. He’d died young and never had time to grow up, so he still believed in the intrinsic good of people even though they could be sucky most of the time.

“Come on,” I said, taking Evan’s hand and heading out.

“Wait,” said the guy with the slicked back hair. He pointed a wand at a notice on the noticeboard: _All students are to be escorted in groups from their common rooms to the Great Hall._

I took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. I knew I wouldn’t get an answer but it was worth a try anyway. “When’s the next group leaving?”

The guy didn’t say anything and no one stepped in to give us an answer. Social pressure, with the older years wanting to get us in line.

“We have our Herbology thing,” I said. “Do you want to get started on that?”

“Wayne’s in my group,” Evan said. He looked a little harrowed, not close to tears but this was already affecting him. Would explaining it help him? Somethings weren’t like that, they still hurt even if you knew the reason.

“Then…History of Magic…?”

He shrugged and we went over to so desks, people clearing out around us as we settled. Evan didn’t get much reading done, looking around, his frown deepening the more people looked past him.

_Fuck them._

We left with a bunch of students made up mainly of fourth and sixth years. The sixth years were up in their own conversation, reallyignoring us while the fourth years were having a harder time. I would catch a sympathetic look at times, someone wanting to say something but stopping because it would mean breaking convention. Had something similar happened to them? Would something similar happen to them if they broke out?

_Fuck this house._

We got into the Great Hall and I took Evan’s hand, pulling him to the Gryffindor table, to Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville.

“We saw Dumbledore fighting one of the monsters last night,” I said and at those words people were immediately paying attention. I pushed Evan forward as he was assaulted by questions, my eyes set on the Slytherin table. I caught sight of Taylor standing and coming towards me but I ignored her, heading instead towards Sylvester who was talking to Blaise Zabini. Peter was on the other end of the table, busy his own conversation.

“Sy,” I said and he turned, his eyes shining as he looked at me. Blaise looked past me to Taylor. “Let’s head out. I want us to talk.”

“Sure,” said Sy, standing and grabbing an apple. “See you in class, Blaise.”

Blaise hummed. The three of us left as a group. We passed by Peter and he looked like he wanted to come with us but he was settled in his seat. He did his best to look like he was interested in what the girl he was talking to was saying.

We turned out of the Great Hall and saw three Aurors patrolling the hallways. The place had no paintings and that just made my stomach churn, twisting and turning as I thought about Alexis.

We walked a long way down, stopping at a corner that had been turned into a small semi-dome with three frosted windows spread evenly at the bottom, and a masquerade ball painted on the patterning at the top. I spotted someone moving through the crowd, a dark figure that everyone was doing their best not to look at.

“Oh, wow,” said Sy.

“What?” said Taylor. She noticed we were looking up and finally she saw her. She turned towards the Aurors.

“No,” I whispered. The Aurors were close but keeping their distance, making sure we could talk with an amount of privacy while still being there if something happened. “She’s a friend. I told her to stay close. Hey, Alexis.”

The figure moved through the crowd until it was at the front of the group, she smiled and waved.

“She isn’t dangerous?” Taylor asked.

“I don’t know yet,” I told her. “It’s…complicated, something I’ll have to talk over with Rose, but I didn’t see her in the Great Hall.”

“Wait,” said Taylor. “Sy, the Aurors?”

“Not listening to us,” said Sylvester. “At least not reacting to anything we’re saying.”

Taylor nodded. “Rose hasn’t been to the Great Hall,” she said. “Hermione was there before she and a group went to the library. She says Rose left early in the morning with Professor Brown. She went to Dumbledore.”

“Why would she do that?” I asked.

“Because Dumbledore knows about me—” Taylor started.

“And Professor Brown,” said Sylvester. “And about me too.”

“Professor Brown is like us?”

Sylvester nodded.

“I told her she should tell him last night,” said Taylor. “At least so she can use his Pensieve. She said no, but I think she was going to when the monsters broke loose.” She looked at me. “She said she didn’t want to do something without telling you, which is why she didn’t go to Dumbledore.”

I frowned. “You want me to feel guilty?”

“I want you and your sister to be on the same page,” she said. “She’s got something after her and you don’t care.”

“You don’t know the shit I’ve been through,” I muttered.

Taylor opened her mouth to speak but Sylvester interrupted. “This isn’t helping anyone. Blake, you called me here for a reason. What’s going on?”

“Do you know anything about cults?” I said.

“A little about methodology, but mostly I know the personalities,” he said. “Why?”

“Hufflepuff is using cult tactics to keep Evan and me in line after last night,” I said. “Making everyone ignore us. Evan isn’t taking it too well.”

Sylvester nodded sagely. “That feels like Hufflepuff,” he said. “Their entire thing is being helpful, but that doesn’t really make sense, does it? These are kids, they should have their selfish moments and yet Hufflepuffs seemingly don’t?”

“Could be how they were sorted,” said Taylor.

“Unless there’s some sort of future magic, I think the sorting’s bullshit,” said Sylvester. “People can change, whether it’s internal or external. The Sorting Hat can’t figure out who you _really_ are by looking into your mind right _now_. I think it might be how houses are structured: Gryffindor rewards the brave, which incentivises kids to act brave and that becomes a part of their personality given enough time.”

“You think that’s what they’re doing to us?” I said.

“Yeah, except this is…more overt,” he said. “Maybe it’s because you’re young and you’re not expected to pick up on it?”

“Can you make sure that it stops?” I asked. “Evan _really_ doesn’t like it. He’s a friendly guy and people ignoring him…”

“Can I ask something?” said Taylor. I shrugged. “Why is Evan comfortable making friends with kids? How can he stand them?”

“Without it being creepy, she mentally adds,” Sylvester put in. Taylor scowled and Sylvester ignored it.

“Because he’s still a kid,” I said. “He mentioned he died and he was young, eight. A monster lured him out of his backyard and he got lost, spent some time running from it before the cold got to him.”

“Huh,” said Sylvester, “and after that? How big a heap of shit did he go through to get so mature?”

I swallowed. “Me,” I said. “I took him as my Familiar and some of the shit connected with being a Thorburn radiated to him. I couldn’t have a moment’s peace which meant _he_ couldn’t have a moment’s peace.” I looked at Taylor. “It’s why I’m so resistant to help Rose. She and I…are connected. A lot of the shit she’ll face will radiate out to me, and through me it’ll hit Evan.”

“You really love the kid,” said Sylvester.

“He’s one of three people magic hasn’t sucked away from me,” I said. “Him, her,” I looked at Alexis, “and a mermaid I’m hoping to get back soon.”

“How are we going to do this?” Taylor asked, looking at Sylvester.

The boy grinned.

***

Taylor was not enjoying this one bit and the red-headed boys at either side of her were loving it going by their broad grins.

“And there he is!” said one of them. “One of the two that single-handedly broke Hufflepuff’s streak.”

“Streak?” I said.

“Four years running Hufflepuff have won the house cup,” said the other filled in.

“Major pains in the butt since there’s money on them keeping the streak going even now,” another said.

“Not that you heard it from us.”

“Do you guys practise that?” said Sylvester. “Talking together?”

“We think on the same level,” said one with a grin, while the other shrugged.

“Makes us know what the other is thinking.”

“It’s annoying,” Taylor muttered. They both brightened and Sylvester mirrored them, their grins going even brighter on seeing Sylvester, which made Sylvester brighten and the entire thing compounded. Taylor crossed her arms, looking off in the distance, not that it hid how annoyed she was.

“I’m George,” said one, hand extended towards Sylvester, “and this handsome gentleman is Fred.” Fred extended his left hand. Sylvester took them both and shook them.

“We need to know about Anthony Clarkson and Johnathan Everton,” I said, pulling it back. Sylvester was distracted by the twins and Taylor seemed annoyed, which made me the one who still had their eyes on the prize.

“Whatever for?” said Fred.

“Hufflepuff are doing something,” said Sylvester. “They’re ignoring my good friends Blake and Evan because they were brave enough to go looking for trouble.”

“A travesty, that is,” said George.

 _“Quite,”_ said Fred.

“And something that needs to be stopped, don’t you think?” Sylvester added, starting just after Fred had got a word in, following the same rhythm they used to speak.

“Knock them down a peg, in my opinion,” said George.

“Stops them being uppity,” Fred finished.

This time Sylvester didn’t say anything but nodded.

“What do you know about them?” I asked.

“Both prefects,” said Fred. “They were part of a thing last year where they worked with Slytherin to game the house points system. Their prefects kept rewarding each other for stupid stuff that didn’t make sense. Dana Ellesmere broke the news in the Pig’s Pen, but it really stuck with Slytherin. The Hufflepuff kids managed to make it seem like they were forced into all of this.”

Taylor frowned. “How did this happen when there are truth serums and memory magic? Couldn’t that be used by the teachers?”

“Anyone non-Ministry using memory spells gets a few months in Azkaban,” said George and he shivered. “Even kids. They say that if you’re old enough to be able to do something that complicated, you’re old enough that the Dementors can be punishment.”

“People that go there never come back the same,” said Fred. “I wouldn’t do it. _Ever.”_

“Okay,” I said. “Back to them. You think it was them that made the deal with Slytherin?”

“Johnathan more than Anthony,” said Fred. “He’s the smarter one. Could have been in Ravenclaw he’s so smart.”

“Okay,” said Sylvester. “Okay. I think we can work with this.”

“What are you thinking?” said Taylor.

“I’m thinking we start a campaign,” said Sylvester. “It’d be better if it came from a place other than Slytherin, which is why I think you two would be perfect for it.”

“What do we get out of it?” the twins said together.

“Money,” said Sylvester, “and the opportunity to start something. But more than anything, you get to cause trouble down the line.”

“You make an intriguing offer, dear sir,” said Fred.

“One we’d be interested in if it didn’t come from a Slytherin firstie,” said George.

“I vouch for Sylvester,” said Taylor.

“The same girl that snitched on us to Snape?” said George, he let out a bark of laughter. “Your ‘vouch’ means zilch.”

Sylvester moved his hands while the twins were focusing on Taylor, a gesture I didn’t understand but it seemed to emphasise me.

“Then how about me,” I said.

“I mean, he lost _two hundred_ points before the first week finished,” Sylvester added. “That has to be worth something, right?”

“Less than you think,” said Fred.

“But enough for us to test how this works,” he said. “Money up front and then we’ll start talking.”

“Give them three Knuts,” Sylvester said to me.

“Three Galleons, more like,” said Fred.

“That’s crazy. Ten Knuts and nothing more.”

“A Sickle,” said George.

“Ten Knuts or we leave right now,” said Sylvester.

“You leave right now and we could just go tell those Hufflepuff boys you’re planning something,” said George.

Fred grinned.

“You do that and I tell McGonagall about you two sneaking out at night,” said Sylvester. He grinned.

“We haven’t snuck out,” said Fred.

“Yet,” said Sylvester. “But you were doing it last year, all through it. You never got caught but the Professors were suspicious.” Sylvester glanced a little at Taylor. “Snape wanted to find out more than the others…I think I might just go to him. He’s my head of house, he’ll be easy to talk to.”

“Mutually assured destruction,” said Taylor. “You mess this up for us and we mess things up for you. You play along and you get paid.”

“Ten Knuts is a lot of money,” said Sylvester.

“Fine,” said the twins. “What do you want us to do?” George finished.

“Right now the people at the top are making people ignore Blake and Evan,” said Sylvester. “Start talking about it to different people, of any house, the gabbier the better. Mention how the people at the top were tied to Slytherin, keep making that connection, mentioning that it doesn’t make sense that _Hufflepuff_ would be doing this when they’re supposed to be good and helpful, and this is just bullying children.”

I pulled out money from my bag, three Sickles and handed them over. The twins were grinning as they looked at the coins.

“Spread it out through the day,” said Sylvester. “Don’t say it all at once.”

Both of them huffed up. “We know how to spread a rumour,” they said and they turned away.

“Is that it?” Taylor asked. “Will that end it?”

“Not sure, honestly,” said Sylvester. “This could take some time, especially with everything else going on. Which is why we’ll have to increase the pressure. Blake, keep talking to the first to third years. Even if this form of attack has been going on a while, they’ll still be new to it. They might break and that’ll mean they’ll be shunned by the others—What?”

“I’ve been mentally looking for the word,” I said. “Shunning. I know, stupid.”

Sylvester snorted. “This’ll ripple out,” he continued, “making the others see it. But more than anything, keep talking to them so others in other houses notice. If they’re young, then it’s better because they might still not have the social tact to keep themselves from asking questions about it.”

“Should I do the same thing in Gryffindor?” Taylor asked.

Sylvester shook his head. “You’re a horrible actor,” he said. “You can’t hide your tells.”

“You really can’t,” I said, because even now I could see that hurt a little and she was trying to hide it.

“I should be getting to class,” said Taylor. “It’s with Rose. You have a message?”

“It’s Alexis,” I said. “The girl. And the Abyss is in trouble.”

Taylor nodded and left.

“Wanna tag along with me?” said Sylvester. “I’ve got to loiter so a painting can find me.”

I shrugged. “Fill Evan in on everything and then yeah,” I said.


	23. Chapter 23

**Sylvester**

She was a figure in the dark and she moved with such grace that it was beautiful. Blake and I were on the third floor and here there were more paintings than on the first floor. There also weren’t that many Aurors.

“…which I feel like Taylor will be disappointed in,” I said, paying a lot of attention to my peripheral vision.

Blake’s friend, Alexis, could walk into paintings and she was following us. She would walk from painting to painting, always behind the owners and stepping into shadow when they glanced in her direction.

We’d fought people like that once upon a time, me and the Lambs, figures with great spatial awareness who’d used it to devastating effect. I tried to reach for a resolution and I couldn’t remember much, the only thing I remembered with any real weight was Jamie but even that was abstract, just the feeling of utmost loss and nothing else.

“There’s more to her than she’s said,” said Blake, giving me a glance. He was on his guard as he usually was with me, but there was so much more now. Every time he caught a flicker of the woman in the painting he would react, guilt flickering across his expression.

“There’s a lot more with all of us than we’ve said,” I countered with a shrug.

“But she has trust issues,” Blake said, giving me another glance.

“This is a test,” I said. “You’re trying to get me to breach trust.”

Shoulders squared and then looking forward, avoiding eye contact. He had different tells, but they were tells that could be as obvious as Taylor’s sometimes. That was a yes.

“I’m thinking Peter,” I said, “except he’s refined how he works. You’re about the same age, so you would have dealt with him a lot. It’s why you don’t like me.”

“I don’t like you,” he said and I smiled as he caught himself. He closed his eyes, took a breath and said, “It’s _not_ that I don’t like you, just I’ve met a lot of people like you and most of them just take and leave people with nothing.”

“That didn’t stop you from coming to me for help.”

“Yeah,” he said and didn’t elaborate. I watched his features, his fists as they closed and opened, his mouth going into a line and then easing, and then the sigh as whatever he was thinking reached its conclusion. “I like young Peter and I feel like you’re going to ruin him.”

I shrugged. “Better than he would have turned out otherwise,” I said, which was right going by his expression. “Tearing people down means people want to stab you in the back figuratively and literally. Trust me, I’ve had that happen. I’m easing him away from that.”

“You’re not making me feel any better,” he said and though he sounded less _tired,_ it was so much like Rose that it was creepy.

“This is good for him,” I continued. “It plays into who he is, but causes less peripheral damage.”

Blake hummed, looking forward. He had his reservations and I could get that. My sense of him and Rose was that they’d been burned by manipulators. They played things differently, Blake through physical force and Rose through verbal force with physical force in the background, but they were both _direct_ in how they fought. If they’d dealt with manipulators, it was by punching them in the face rather than becoming adept at the subtleties of outplaying them.

Taylor was also sort of like that, but she just made herself harder to move, harder for her mind to be changed. I’d watched her when we were discussing reincarnation, thinking about all the things I could say to make things better, then I’d seen how she’d looked at me. She’d been _waiting_ for me to say something and I could see her building walls around her ideas.

“I’m going to be sneaking out of the castle soon,” I said, pulling myself back. Blake gave me a glance, eyebrow pitched up. “The year’s about to start, _really_ start, and the schoolwork is going to rise a notch. I’m going to use that to start a business.”

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a roll of parchment, scrolled on it were ten potions that worked to increase how the mind worked, from memory potions to those that invigorated the mind, and even some that made thinking easier. Blake took it, reading it over.

“Is this even allowed?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I might get suspended if they find out, but I’ll make sure that that doesn’t happen,” I said. “I was oblique when I told Peter, made it a challenge that I think he’s close to figuring out, but I want to be a broker. Help lead people to other people who can give them what they want, but for that to happen, I need rep first.”

Blake was suspicious as he looked at me. “I feel like you want something,” he said. “That’s why you’re telling me this.”

“Well,” I said, grinning. “Peter’ll bankroll me, but things might be hard because of what he did with his father. He might not be getting his allowance. It’d be better if I had another Thorburn investing in what I’m trying to do.”

“You know I’m not _made_ of money,” said Blake. “Giving three Sickles to the Weasley twins took a chunk out of my allowance.”

“You shouldn’t have given them three Sickles,” I said. “That’s why I negotiated lower.”

“And you didn’t know I would give them the Sickles?”

“I’m not a mind-reader, y’know,” I said. “I read people and that’s different. If you only decide something in the moment, then _that’s_ when I see it. If I know you well, then I’ll be able to guess, but I don’t know you well enough, Blake Thorburn.”

He went quiet, his head turning to look at Alexis, who skulked in the painting to our left, giving me the best look I’d gotten because the painting’s inhabitant was elsewhere. She was short, thin and pale, her hair wet as it stuck to her face, and the parts of her face I could see had zits that oozed ink. She wore torn and tattered clothing, with pieces missing that showed crisscrossing scars beneath, patched over with black blood. She was clutching a tattoo gun in her hand, and the way she held it made me think it was very important. She moved back, finding shadow as another figure stepped into the picture. Blake and I stopped.

“Hello, Ozzy,” I said, taking him in. His wasn’t breathing hard because paintings didn’t work like that, but he was holding himself on alert, with his eyes darting from side to side and with him looking over his shoulder. I noticed he looked particularly closely at the place Alexis had disappeared to. He was on the run, perhaps moving from painting to painting.

“Sylvester,” he said, his tone cold and dead. He _looked_ a little older than Blake and me, shorter than both of us and he held himself with a regal air. He looked over his shoulder again and when he looked back, he was frowning. “I wonder if we might speak.”

The formal tone of speech might give me a bead on when he might have been made, but then again, the wizarding world generally seemed behind. It could be that he’d been made in a later period by Muggle standards, but wizards had only just caught up. A lot of the paintings in Hogwarts were done by kids, gifted to the school if they were particularly good. Maybe a pure blood had made Ozzy?

“Sure,” I said. “Let’s talk about payment. I got you out.”

He turned left and his eyes opened a little wider. He shifted, wanting to move and holding himself from doing so. I eased my expression so I seemed oblivious. He had a time limit and that meant he’d want to rush this while also wanting to be on my good side. I could ask for the world and he might give me a moon, but that wouldn’t be fair or good in the long term.

“When we first met, you wanted to know about the secret entrance leading from the first floor to the fifth,” he said. “I can tell you its secrets.”

That was what I’d wanted, wasn’t it?

“No,” I said. “I want something else.”

I paused, watched as he squirmed, watching irritation play out and him reign it in. “What is it?” he said, tone tight and clipped.

“There are ways out of the school, aren’t there?” I said. He nodded. “Do you know any of them?”

“I know of one,” he said. “One I heard some boys mention long ago. I’ll tell it you when we meet on the frame in the Bell Tower.” He didn’t even wait, jumping out of the painting into the next and disappearing. A moment later his father, or someone who looked so much like him it had to be his father, appeared and disappeared, running to the next painting.

“Bastard,” I said, but I was grinning. Blake chuckled beside me. Ozzy had figured out what I wanted then used _that_ against me. He’d used the fact that I’d asked him for the secret exits to guess that I hadn’t asked any of the other paintings, or that I hadn’t found anything out, to give himself leverage.

“Up for more walking?” I said to Blake. He shrugged. We started walking towards the Charms class, which was a floor down.

“What’s his deal?” Blake asked. “Why is he being chased?”

“He’s a hunter,” I said. “Kills animals and stuffs them, I think. _His_ painting doesn’t have animals so he’s been hunting from other paintings and they don’t like that so they threatened to get Dumbledore involved. Ozzy’s parents were afraid they might be booted out of the castle, so they told the others they’d keep him in check.”

“You got him out,” said Blake and I nodded. “Why?”

“He’s over twenty years old _at least,”_ I said, “and he doesn’t have many friends. He might tell me the secrets of this place if I playthings right.”

“Dangerous, though,” he said. “Because he played you just now.”

I shrugged. “This sort of thing isn’t one-sided. I win some and I lose others. Right now, he won a meeting with me, but I’ll win autonomy.”

He nodded and something shifted in how he held himself.

“You want something,” I said and it sucked that I hadn’t been able to pinpoint exactly when I’d caught that. It meant my mind was starting to dull and I’d need more Wyvern soon.

He sighed. “A room,” he said. “One people don’t know about.”

“Because of her,” I said gesturing at Alexis.

“Yeah,” he said. “But also because I’m going to smuggle Evan’s and my brooms here. If you get a way out, then we can hide them somewhere and sneak out to fly.”

I shook my head. “If man were meant to fly, god would have given him wings,” I said. Something the nuns back at the orphanage liked to say.

“Evan and I _had_ wings,” said Blake, the hint of nostalgia in his voice, a smile he couldn’t hold back.

My expression twisted. “I’ll never get why you two like birds so much,” I said. _“Dogs_ I could understand, you can actually do stuff with them. But birds? Dumb contagion carriers who you can only train to do one thing and beyond that they’re just dumb.”

Blake stopped, taking a deep breath and I heard a chuckle from the painting. I looked and Alexis was smiling, showing that she didn’t have teeth at the front of her mouth. When Blake noticed, the tension eased. He still scowled at me, though.

An Auror moved in our direction and Alexis disappeared. Blake and I stopped as the Auror moved to the painting, pointed his wand to let light through. When he found nothing he moved on.

Alexis was already waiting for us on another painting.

“I like her,” I said. “She’s got skills.”

“Alexis was always great,” said Blake, happy, sad and guilty. “Saved me from a really fucked up situation and I…”

“You’re why she’s like this?” I said.

Blake sighed. “She needed my help and I wasn’t there.”

“There was a demon after us,” said Alexis as we passed the next painting. “I understand.”

“Stuff like Or—” Blake tensed and I stopped, remembering that I wasn’t supposed to say the name.

“It’s a long story,” said Blake. We reached Charms class and I could see a bunch of sixth years in their lesson. Their stuff was more complicated than what we were learning and it was all supposed to be silent spells. It meant the sixth years were mainly looking constipated as they waved their wands towards golden goblets.

“Hey, Sy!” said the Boy on the Hill. He was sitting on his tree looking into Charms. I’d put him so he faced towards Charms class, a clear window separating us from the students doing their work. Those at the back glanced our way, annoyance creeping into their features.

“See anything fun, yet?” I asked.

“Give it a second,” he said, a large grin on him. “It might happen again.” I leaned against the wall. Blake watched with his arms crossed, eyes flickering to me at times. The class was bigger, with students from all four houses. “Look at the Slytherin girl with the ponytail.”

I did and I could see it play out. She started off relatively well and then got impatient. The strokes of her wand got fiercer and fiercer until a geyser shot out of the goblet, hitting her square in the face and pushing her back. Water spilled on everyone around her and I could hear groans from everyone surrounding her.

Professor Flitwick was the only spared because an invisible umbrella suddenly shielded him from the water.

The Boy on the Hill let out a loud cackle and I instantly dropped, hiding from the sixth years. Blake did the same without any cue from me, which spoke well of his reflexes. We scampered forward, leaning against the wall under the window.

The door to the class opened and a drenched Gryffindor boy opened the door, wand out and staring at the painting.

“Quietus!” he said and there was a bang, leaving the Boy on the Hill silent. He went back into class without spotting us.

“I’ll undo the spell,” I said to the boy, “if you tell me about any abandoned or secret rooms. Ones that people don’t normally use.”

He gave me the thumbs up.

“Follow us,” I said. We moved a few hallways down and I said, “Finite Incantatem.”

There was a crack-bang and when the boy spoke, every second word was silent. Blake did the spell; a louder bang and this time every fourth word was silent. Six more crack-bangs and the Boy on the Hill could finally speak.

“We’re _so_ bad at Charms,” I said.

He shrugged. “At least I’m good at Transfiguration,” he said. “What are you good at?”

“How you wound me,” I said, hand over my heart. I turned to the Boy. “Spill.”

“Most of them are in the dungeons, the _dungeon_ dungeons,” he said. “You’ll have to go a floor lower than where Slytherin is and there are rooms there. Some of them have pass-phrases and stuff, but you’ll have to ask Slytherin portraits for that.”

“More walking?” said Blake.

I nodded. “If I don’t do this now, I’ll get distracted,” I told him. I turned to the Boy on the Hill. “Thanks. You can go back to your cackling.”

He grinned and disappeared, shouts erupting from the other paintings.

“Can you look like a Thorburn?” I said.

“What?”

“You know,” I said. “Stuffy like a pure-blood. I’m sure all the paintings know about me being Muggle-born, they won’t talk to me. But you, they’ll tell you if you ask.”

“I’m a Hufflepuff,” he said.

“Make it sound like it’s all part of some long-term plot,” I told him. “Better yet, don’t even give them time to ask stuff. Just bull rush them, tell them what you want and imply consequences if they don’t give it to you.”

He sighed and then stood straighter, his chin up and his eyes going cold. It was the same expression I’d seen on his grandmother, but filtered through masculinity. Something his Dad did?

It didn’t matter. It would work, even without him needing to change his hair.

***

“… _useless,”_ said Blake, cold and calm, looking away from the teenage portrait. “And here I thought you were supposed to be a _Slytherin_ portrait, but I think even Gryffindor paintings might be smarter than this.”

“Excuse me?” the girl said. She lived in a painting taller than us, sitting in a chair and every bit the lady. “How dare—”

Blake turned away. “Come,” he said to me. “We might be able to find someone more useful upstairs.”

We were in the dungeons, a long way away from the Slytherin common room, but not on the lower floor. We’d tried to go and they’d been barred with magic, a countermeasure by Aurors. I did my best not to grin as I nodded, putting a lot of enthusiasm in it.

“Wait!” the girl said, when we’d only moved a few steps away.

Blake turned, looking _annoyed._ “You’re wasting my time,” he said to the painting, managing to sound angry.

She turned her nose up. “I may know a hidden room,” she said and there was a glint in her eyes, a smugness barely held back.

“Well?” said Blake.

“Apologise,” she said. I could see it in her, the moment he apologised, the game would be lost. I wanted to signal this to him but at a glance I could see it wasn’t needed.

From annoyance to disgust. “Do you have any idea who I am?” he said. “I’m Blake Thorburn, a pure-blood, and you expect me to apologise to a _portrait.”_ Her cheeks flushed. “The gall,” he said. “Of a plaything, a child’s charm work, asking that of _me._ Sylvester.”

I jumped, too caught up in it. He was digging deep, putting on a mask and I could see beneath the surface that he hated every second of it. But it was _beautiful,_ a picture into an older Blake and what he’d had to deal with. I could see Peter and maybe Ellie playing a role in this, applying pressure, messing things up for him, and him having to put up that mask and respond.

 _Focus,_ I thought and said, “Yes, Mr Thorburn, sir?”

“I taught you a spell,” he said. “To remove portraits from walls.”

A spell I didn’t remember.

“You wouldn’t,” said the girl, fear tearing through her expression. “I’ll tell the Headmaster.”

“Dumbledore’s hurt,” Blake hit back, not even thinking through it, “and McGonagall is too busy with everything going on to deal with this. But it says something about you that you would run to Gryffindors.”

Another hit, playing on the division between houses. I’d told him he’d have to play against that, that it would work against him even if most of his family had been in Slytherin, but here he was, using it to his advantage.

 _I love you, Blake Thorburn,_ I thought, doing my best not to grin, not to give things away.

Blake looked at me. “Remove her from that wall,” he said, “she doesn’t deserve it. We’ll put her up with the Gryffindors. It’s clear that’s where her loyalties lie.”

“That won’t be needed,” she said, swallowing. “Go down the hall until you reach a sealed off archway. Speak the words: _Hic nisi purus intrabunt._ ”

“You’ll tell no one of this,” said Blake, parting words before he strode off. I followed a step behind, keeping my head down to add onto the act.

I was bubbling as we walked but I held it in. We turned a bit of a bend and I threw one arm over his head. Blake recoiled, pushing himself away and went on alert. I held up my hands in surrender but a grin had finally spread.

“That was _amazing,”_ I said.

He frowned. “I need a shower,” he said. “I feel disgusting.”

“But you were _awesome,”_ I said. I snapped my fingers, trying to find the word and I just couldn’t. “I thought she had you with the whole apologise thing, but then you played into it, every bit the snob every Slytherin thinks they should be.”

He shook his head. “You’ll be a bad influence on Peter,” he said. “And he’s actually not as much of an ass here.”

We found the archway. The points where the arches connected had a circle with a snake eating its tail inside.

“Hic nisi purus intrabunt,” said Blake and the wall disappeared, revealing a thin passageway with torches on either side. I pulled out my wand and after a word the tip lit. Blake did the same. The moment we walked in, the torches lit.

We walked down the passageway until we got into the room at the end. The room was two floors, circular in shape with a spiralling staircase at the centre, rising up to the second floor. The first floor had light fixtures spaced regularly between dark windows, but not much furnishing otherwise.

“I hate circular rooms,” said Blake as we walked in. “They’re hard to decorate.”

“You’re into that? Decorating?”

“Had artist friends,” he said. “Alexis is an artist.” He smiled. “Had tattoos on my arm that she made. Maybe she might be able to make them again. She could be able to do something with this room.”

We went up to the second floor, which wasn’t really a floor but a mezzanine, as Blake explained. Four walkways spread from the landing and connected it to the mezzanine, with a dark window on the wall at the end of three of the walkways.

“There’ll be a door,” said Blake. “Even if we can’t see it.”

“Hope it’s a toilet,” I muttered.

Blake let me lead as a door shimmered into existence. I opened it and lights came on, revealing a black marble toilet, a sink with a silver faucet adorned with moving snakes, and a black window beyond the toilet. The walkway into the room was bounded by dark metal flowers and vines that grew to shape the railing. Directly above the landing was a large chandelier filled with water and three eel-like snakes, all of them dead.

“The faucets aren’t connected to any plumbing,” Blake said, more focused on the toilet than the chandelier and the eels. They looked familiar, but I couldn’t say that they weren’t naturally occurring in the magical world.

“Must be using magic,” I said absently.

“Wonder if it still works,” said Blake. “Magic isn’t supposed to age well.”

“Wanna test it?” I said, grinning.

“Seems dangerous.”

“It does.”

Blake opened the faucet. The thing vibrated, sparked and water shot out, hitting the sink and splashing in every direction. I’d been waiting for this and I was already moving. But there was only so much space and Blake was faster and bigger, so he pushed me, getting himself out of the way while getting me drenched.

He was laughing as we got out onto the mezzanine. I scowled, which didn’t help.

“Wonder what’s up with the windows,” he said, still grinning.

“Reveal your secrets!” I said and nothing happened.

“Um…no, blanking,” he said. At my raised brow he said, “I was trying to think of the Latin of the phrase.” He shook his head.

“We’ll think of it,” I said. Water was starting to flood the floor. “We’ll have to fix that.”

“Taylor and Hermione might know a spell,” said Blake.

I grinned. “So you’re thinking what I’m thinking. This could be our clubhouse?”

“Headquarters sounds better,” he said with a shrug. “Shouldn’t we be getting to your painting?”

“Let him wait,” I said. “That’ll teach him not to play games with me. Anyway, we still have class.”

“Better get going, then,” he said.

I sighed as I saw them. We’d just gone out of our HQ, with the door having closed behind us. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle, and three third years, smirked as they spotted us.

“Draco,” I said as they came closer, “at this point I’m starting to think you have a crush on me.”

He blushed, about to say something but I closed that down.

“It’s not healthy to think about me as much as you do,” I continued. “I mean, how big is this castle that you were able to even find me?”

“I wasn’t looking for you,” he lied. “I was in the area.”

Blake snorted. “Don’t buy it,” he said. “Too much of a coincidence.”

Draco was red. “Thorburn,” he said. “Your family and mine have always been allies. I’m even friends with your cousin, Peter.”

“Lie,” I muttered, taking him out of his rhythm.

He scowled, his fists clenched. “He knows the order of things, that _that,”_ he pointed at me, “isn’t allowed in Slytherin.”

“Get out of the way, Thorburn, and we’ll leave you out of this,” said one of the third years.

Blake shook his head. “I think I like this scrawny guy,” he said.

“You’re outnumbered,” said Draco. “Get out of the way or we’ll go through you, too.”

I made a gesture at Blake, communicating to him that he should prop himself up. It was the same thing I’d done with the Weasleys and I hoped he understood it.

“I ran after a monster,” said Blake. “You think I’m afraid of some barely-wizards.”

_He did!_

A third year was the first to react, face twisting as his wand came up. “Rictusempra!” the boy said and a spiralling spell flew at us.

Blake and I dodged, ducking into niches as six more spells came our way. There was no aim, there was no thought that they should try get closer to cut down the time it took the spell to reach us, or to _wait,_ see where we were moving before firing a spell.

_Children._

“Periculum!” said Blake, angling his wand up. The bolt flew free and broke just above their heads. I turned a bit away because that thing could be _bright._ Between the sound and light they all screamed, hands going to their eyes, their attack forgotten.

“Lapsus. Lapsus. Lapsus. Lapsus. Lapsus. Lapsus. Lapsus.”

We left them trying to get up, screaming and pawing at their eyes and ears. I didn’t think they even heard us when we passed by them.

“At some point they’ll catch you alone,” said Blake when we’d turned a corner.

“I’m good at taking my licks,” I said. “Once everything is set up, I’ll be a harder target. Just gotta ride this out.”

Blake nodded. “When we’re free, let’s go looking for an empty portrait. Put it in there for Alexis.”

I nodded and we went to class.


	24. Chapter 24

**Taylor**

_Crowd control is exceptionally hard. There are just too many elements, too many personalities and, in the end, if there isn’t an immediate danger, or there is an immediate danger that’s too great, it can just fall apart._

There were Aurors in the halls, but the whole escorting thing had fallen apart. I’d noticed this first when I’d been leaving with Blake and Sylvester, and it was worse now just walking around. I was a first year, _alone_ and the Aurors were barely watching me, instead taking in their surroundings and paying attention to the empty frames which lined the walls.

It would be the easiest thing to claim incompetence, say they weren’t good at their jobs. But they were herding _kids._ Which could be easy or hard depending on the circumstances. More than anything they were herding kids in a school, which was its own special case because you didn’t want kids to feel too scared or it would negatively impact their learning.

I didn’t go to the library. I’d been going to the library too much and it felt like I wasn’t doing enough. A lot was happening around me, a lot that I wasn’t connected to, and…I felt adrift.

So much of my life had been defined by _purpose,_ something that had to be done or someone who needed to be saved. When I thought about it, I hadn’t had free time in a very long time. The last few months with my parents had been great, living with them and getting to know them, exploring the memories I’d gotten from a life lived in this world with none of the baggage of capes or Endbringers.

But right now…

 _I need something to do and for the life of me I don’t know_ what.

At the thought, my mind flickered towards Sylvester and then to Grue, to Brian. He’d told me once that I had a way of putting the Undersiders in danger, trusting that I’d get them out alive as a way to feel useful. The words had hurt, because they weren’t true, but Sylvester’s words were close enough to Brian’s to give me pause.

This feeling of being untethered was making things worse.

A lot was happening around me and people were dealing with it without my help. Coil had appeared and I’d responded to that by getting help. I didn’t know the scale yet, but Dumbledore _was_ at least keeping Coil at bay. My input wasn’t needed, I didn’t _need_ to train to defeat him because he was keeping his distance.

Yet I was.

I was thinking about combat spells to learn, excited about the Duelling and Battle Clubs so I could test out the full scope of magic in a fight. I was looking at the stuff happening with Blake, Rose and Evan, with Sylvester and his schemes, Hermione and how she found any excuse to study a new subject, and feeling like I didn’t have purpose.

 _There’s helping Rose,_ a part of me thought, but that was twisted together with Brian and Sylvester’s words. Would I put her in risky situations to feel useful, to feel like I had a place, like I had purpose?

And why didn’t I feel like I had a place when I had my parents?

I glanced at my clock. Fifteen minutes until I had History of Magic. I scanned for an empty room and I found one the size of a drawing room filled with sofas and short tables, with cushions stowed in one corner. There were paintings on the wall and all of them were of people doing their reading, some writing.

I grabbed a cushion and hauled it closer to the short desk. I pulled out a pen and paper. I still wasn’t used to writing with a quill yet and it would take longer than the time I had before my first class.

***

_Mom and Dad,_

_I don’t know when this will reach you, but you’ll likely have heard about the attack at school. Before you panic. I’m fine, everyone is fine and none of the students were hurt. I think they found out something about the monster that attacked me and they were investigating it. (Aurors, not the teachers—Aurors are magical police if you don’t know)_

_While I’m writing this, they haven’t told us anything, but I’m sure they’ll tell us before the day is done, or maybe they’ll tell you? If they tell you, can you keep me updated?_

_Things were as safe as could be, with escorts and everything, and when the monsters were loose, they had us all stay in one place so they didn’t have to spread out their defending forces. A monster tried to get into the Great Hall, but Headmaster Dumbledore went to go fight it. I still don’t know what happened with that, but with how this place loves its gossip, I’ll know by the end of the day._

_Anyway, I’m still liking Hogwarts. No one’s said it yet, but I’m better at magic than most of my year mates. This means that Professor Brown, the teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts, is teaching me spells above what the others are learning. I’m hoping that when I go to Charms, the same might happen there and I’ll be able to enchant things at home (hide this part from Dad)._

_History of Magic is taught by a ghost. I know this sounds cool in the_ magic _sort of way, but trust me it isn’t. The teacher is boring and he makes the entire class boring, which it shouldn’t be because this stuff is fascinating. You have no idea how many incidents that happened throughout history are because of some magical creatures._

_The other class I’ve gone to is Transfiguration, which is changing something into something else. I’m not as good at that as I am with Defence Against the Dark Arts or learning Charms, but I’m still above average._

_Before you ask: Yeah, I made friends. I mostly hang out with Hermione and Rose—she’s the blonde girl who was in the hospital wing with me (her brother swore at their grandmother)—but Sylvester, Blake and Evan are sort of friends too. I don’t mind hanging out with them, so there’s that._

_Hermione’s Hermione. I think she’s trying to set a record by reading every book in the Hogwarts library. I still don’t have a good read on Rose, but I don’t mind hanging out with her. Sylvester is a rascal, which sort of makes sense with where he comes from, but…I’m not sure. Evan is too…I don’t know, I feel like it’s the same reason that I don’t hang out with other kids my age. Blake is all dark and mysterious, with an intensity to him that I like, but we haven’t talked and it might be because we hang around the same people that we hang out together._

_This end is a little directionless, but I felt like writing because I miss you guys._

_Love, Taylor._

***

My next class was History of Magic, my favourite class from the outside in, but having to sit through Professor Binns wasn’t the best. Hermione was already in class when I got there, with a dozen books on the table beside her and a notepad.

She didn’t even notice me when I sat beside her. I looked over her notes and they were on protective magic and shielding enchantments. _Hogwarts: A History_ was the book she had open in a section titled _Secrets of Hogwarts Castle._

“What’s—”

She started, her hand going over her chest.

“You scared me,” she said.

“Sorry,” I said. “What’s going on?”

Hermione looked around. The class was empty and the paintings were on the other side of the class, our side was lined with windows. Professor Binns was present but he was hovering over his desk and looking off into space.

“Rose went to Headmaster Dumbledore,” Hermione said, whispering. “She says she’s hoping to get him to help her get her magic back. After that we’ll need a place for her to practice so I’m trying to find something like that. Headmaster Dumbledore mentioned that there are secret rooms in the castle and I’m trying to find out where they are.”

“And the other stuff? Protective enchantments?” I took a book and flipped through it.

She shrugged. “Didn’t know what would be useful so I’m taking a broad approach,” she said with another shrug. “I’m going to have to build a schedule so all of this doesn’t interfere with my schoolwork. The week isn’t even done and we already have a _lot_ of homework.”

“Okay,” I said, pulling off my bag and taking a seat. “Wonder if Rose will make it to class.”

Hermione only shrugged, her attention on her books.

The class started filing in, Ravenclaws showing first and sitting together before the Gryffindors arrived, talking in loud voices. Everyone sat, pulling out their books, and the ones who groaned about Professor Binns kept it soft enough he didn’t hear.

Rose was one of the last to arrive and she looked a little frazzled. She was mostly ignored by the others as she took her place on the desk in front of ours. She let out a long sigh.

“Everything okay?” I said. Hermione looked up from her work.

Rose shook her head, whispering, “Dumbledore’s hurt and I couldn’t talk to him.” She glanced at Lavender who was leaning a little too close. Lavender blushed and made a show of pulling out her books. “We’ll have to go through with our initial plan.”

I nodded. It would take a lot of money, but we’d have to send a letter out to an apothecary to deliver the potions Rose would need for her memories. There was a risk of the potions breaking, but Rose would buy in bulk to decrease the chances of this happening. All together the plan would take at least a day, and then we’d have to go through all the trouble of finding the things she needed to put her ritual together.

Something caught my attention, but Professor Binns was starting his lesson.

“Remind me to tell you something when we leave,” I told Rose. “It’s about your brother and Professor Brown.”

“Okay,” she said. Rose wasn’t able to focus for much of the class and Hermione kept glancing at her books instead of focusing on Professor Binns. I took the notes for the class. There was a lot of shit happening, but I couldn’t let it be disruptive. I hadn’t finished school on Earth Bet, and as stupid as it was, I wanted to be able to say I graduated this time around.

The class was boring, which was less to do with the material and more to do with Professor Binns’ delivery. I bore through it, taking notes on stuff he spent more time on than others, underlining parts that I found either interesting or that felt like they’d be right for test questions. My mind wanted to think about Rose, to think about approaches to her problem but I was stopping it, not wanting to prove Brian and Sylvester right, which meant it took me a bit too long to realise something.

If Dumbledore was hurt, did that mean my protection was gone?

 _No,_ I thought. _Even if Dumbledore’s out of the picture, there’s still Professor Brown. Maybe he doesn’t have the same power of Dumbledore, but he’s got magical experience._

But I couldn’t help but feel worried, thinking about Coil, who was in his element. He was in power and only three people knew about the person he was. He could use all of this to take down Dumbledore, then Professor Brown and finally me.

“Taylor?” said Hermione. I turned to look at her. “Class is done.”

“Right,” I said. I started packing up. Hermione had a dozen books above her regular course work and the things all looked heavy. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at the books.

“I’m hoping this will work again,” she said, biting her lip. She took a deep breath said, “Mobililibrus!” A harsh bang followed by nothing. She sighed and was about to try again when Professor Binns got close. “Oh, I’m sorry, Professor, I’ll—”

He shook his head. “Do it again,” he said, still that same boredom he used to teach the class.

“Mobililibrus!” Hermione said and still the spell didn’t work

“You’re swallowing a syllable,” he said. “It’s li- _beh_ -rus,” he said. “You’re saying librus. Say it with me, li- _beh_ -rus.”

Hermione repeated it. Professor Binns had her repeat it again until, “Okay,” he said. “Let’s try again.”

“Mobililiberus,” said Hermione, giving her wand a swish, flick and a little squiggle at the end. Another bang and unlike the Levitation Charm, the hover wasn’t as showy, the book only rose a few inches off the ground. Hermione moved her wand and the books rose higher, following her point.

“Very good,” said Professor Binns, no emotion in the words. “Five points to Ravenclaw.”

She followed after me and Rose, smiling as she looked at the books she had hovering in front of her. “At some point I’ll be able to enchant books to follow me,” she said. “If we go to the Charms Club, we might learn how to do that to our rucksacks.”

“I’m looking forward to the point where we don’t have anything on our plate so I can just enjoy this place,” I said.

Hermione’s smile dropped. She looked at Rose. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I haven’t been able to find anything.”

“It’s okay,” said Rose. “Taylor, you said I should remind you—”

“Let’s head towards Defence,” I said. There were only paintings around us, most sitting still, only moving to scratch their noses or sneeze. “I didn’t tell you this before because it wasn’t my place, but Professor Brown is like us.”

“Oh,” said Rose.

“Oh?” I said.

“He alluded stuff about…us,” she said. “But he didn’t come out and say it. I didn’t tell him anything, just asked to speak to Professor Dumbledore when he was okay enough to talk.”

“When did you find out?” Hermione asked.

“Before you guys,” I said. “When I talked to Dumbledore. Sylvester figured it out and he told Blake. Which…” I sighed. “I don’t know the context, but I feel like what I’m about to tell you is bad news.”

“It might,” said Rose. “Give it to me.”

“Blake said it was Alexis, and the Abyss is looking for help.”

She stopped, swallowed and closed her eyes. “I need to get Awakened,” she said.

“Explain.”

She hesitated. Maybe the same sort of hesitation I’d felt on first finding out about Coil.

“It’s okay to ask for help,” I said.

“It’s not about that. It’s about responsibility,” she said. “What I’m about to do is…There’s a reason that Blake doesn’t want it and it’s because there’s a lot of baggage. It would be the worst thing if I told you too much and you’d get some of that baggage.”

“I’m used to baggage,” I said.

“Um…” said Hermione. “I…I don’t think I’m used to it, but you’re our friend and it would be wrong to not help you.”

Rose sighed. “It’s…Blake and I put something in the Abyss,” she said. “Something powerful that would have meant the end of the world as we knew it. If the Abyss is looking for help, and it’s looking for help from _me.”_

“Unforgivable spells,” I said.

Rose let out a shaky breath. “I understand if you want to get as far away from this as possible,” she said. “Blake and I have fought this before, and we… _I_ can do it again.”

I shook my head, taking a deep breath. “My world was ending,” I told her. “My sector of worldswere being destroyed and instead of working together, people broke apart, _hid_ instead of fighting back.I’ve always hated that sort of thing.”

“A lot like Blake,” said Rose, smiling a little.

“You don’t have to answer this if it’s too personal,” Hermione said. “But…do you and your brother like each other?”

“It’s complicated,” she said.

“Blake said almost the same thing,” I said, arms crossed. “Said I didn’t know the shit he’d had gone through.”

“Sounds like Blake,” she said. “I…made a lot of mistakes, things that were right at the time but didn’t help so much with our relationship.”

“Vague,” I said.

“Vague is safe,” she said. We quieted down as the Defence class came in view, with seventh years going in. Ten of them in total.

“You guys lost or something?” a girl with magenta hair said. Unlike when me and Sylvester had come in here, there weren’t any desks, only shimmers in the air where there were protective enchantments. Rose and Hermione hadn’t had Defence yet and they were momentarily stuck, looking at everything.

“No, just wanted to speak to Professor Brown before class started,” I said.

She nodded ahead to where Professor Brown was talking to a pair of Slytherin students. He spotted us and ushered the pair away. We went up to him.

“You were right,” I said.

“Guessed as much,” he said. “Come to my office. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said to his class. He closed the door behind us and looked at Rose. “Do you know about the door into the other dimension?” he said.

“Yes,” said Rose. “The Abyss.”

Professor Brown nodded. “Makes sense,” he said. “Every divergence between this dimension and mine is because of you. It didn’t make sense from Ms Hebert’s dimension, and I don’t know yet about Mr Lambsbridge. But it made sense that someone connected to that would want to talk to Dumbledore after the attack, especially when you were the first people attacked by monster from…the Abyss? It made the most sense that since you were the one connected to all of that, you’d know about it.”

Rose nodded. “It wants to talk to me,” said Rose. “But I can’t as I am now. I need to Awaken, but I’ll need to review my memories on the process and some supplies.”

He nodded, pointed his wand at a piece of parchment and words spilled out. The parchment folded at a flick and glowed a green colour before it faded.

“Take this to Professor Snape,” he said. He glanced at a map on his desk. “He’s in the staff room. He’ll give you access to Professor Dumbledore’s Pensieve. He might be able to help you get any supplies.”

I frowned. “Can we get anyone _besides_ Professor Snape?”

Professor Brown smiled. “He takes a little getting used to,” he said. “But Snape will do this. Off you go, I have class to get to.”

“Coil,” I said. “He might try something.”

“Thomas is being kept busy in the Ministry,” he said. “But we’re watching him.”

“By we, you mean…?” I asked.

“Do you know about the Order of the Phoenix?”

I shook my head.

“They were a group that was led by Headmaster Dumbledore,” said Hermione. “They were instrumental in the war against Voldemort.”

“Exactly right,” said Professor Brown with a smile. He looked at me. “Not all of them know, but some do and they’re looking into his work, trying to spot anything worth worrying about. He’s being watched. He won’t try anything.”

I nodded. “My parents?”

“Charms are in the process of being put up in their apartment,” he said. “Your mother’s shown interest in taking a future teaching position and integrating into the magical world. People are talking to her and your father, telling them the sort of forms they need to fill out to allow us to use magic on their place.”

“Do they know? About me?”

He shook his head. “We’ll let you explain that,” he said.

I felt a bit of tension ease. Mom and Dad finding out about me would cause too many complications I wasn’t willing to deal with right now.

“I hope that’s all,” said Professor Brown. “I really have class to get to. I have a lot of work to get through.”

“Of course,” said Rose. I nodded. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” I added.

Hermione gave a small smile before we left.

***

Rose appeared with a bit of a stumble, a notebook in hand. She let out a deep breath, smiling a little. Hermione and I sat on a desk that had been cleared of clutter, doing the homework we’d been putting off for much of the week. Professor Snape sat behind the Headmaster’s desk, grading some essays. He looked up as Rose appeared.

“It was productive, I hope?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. She ripped out a page off her notebook and handed it over to Professor Snape. The man took it, looking at it for a long time.

“I’ll need those, please, and I’ll need floor space.”

He nodded and came to his feet, pulling out his wand. A flick and every bit of furniture disappeared, leaving much of the floor clear.

“And chalk to write with,” Rose said as Snape started to leave. Another flick and a stick of chalk appeared.

“What now?” said Hermione.

“Now I draw a magic circle,” said Rose. “Stay back.”

It took her the better part of an hour to finish the thing: Three sets of concentric circles, seven in the outermost set, six in the middle set and five in the innermost. There were also bowls put in the circles and she was now filling them with stuff.

Professor Snape had gone to teach his next class and Professor Brown had taken over watching us by the time the entire thing was finished.

“You’ll have to leave,” Rose said, the entire thing done. “Professor Brown and the portraits. I’ll have to be naked and I’m not comfortable with you seeing me naked.”

“Okay,” said Professor Brown.

I gave him a look and couldn’t help but frown. I didn’t think much about Professor Brown but he seemed odd. _Alive_ when he taught but more than anything he just seemed to go along with stuff. Like right now, he should have been asking questions but he was just accepting it. If Rose said something was complicated, then he would just accept it without asking any questions.

“We can stay?” I asked.

She nodded. “It’s selfish, but people make things better,” she said. “They’re a form of power. I also want to see the interactions between our two forms of magic, the degree that your magic makes you more other.”

“Makes sense,” I said, even when I wasn’t sure what being _other_ was.

She began to strip. “Note down what you see. There are some things that my magic hides from people who haven’t been Awakened.”

“I’ll do it,” said Hermione, an excited edge to her voice. She rushed to her backpack and pulled out her own notebook and pen. She had them poised as Rose found her way in the middle of the circle, spreading sheets of her notebook in front of her.

She started, an incantation I couldn’t understand, stopping and starting at times, but blustering through it with careful confidence. Slowly at first, but gradually faster, the circles started to move and the bowls moved with them. The entire diagram started to shift, unfolding, everything starting to change positions.

The shifting stopped as a bowl with a knife stopped in front of Rose.

“Violence,” Rose said. The bowl with the dagger moved and an hourglass took its place.

“Alister.”

A dreamcatcher was next.

“Home,” she said.

A silver skull.

“Death.”

A coin.

“Resource.”

A lifeless Rose.

“My past.”

And finally her wand.

“This is the focal point to a new world,” she said. “It’s something that should make me feel happy, away from all the responsibilities I once had, but it makes the hurt feel closer. I fought against the tide and I managed to get a life, but it was pulled away giving me…” She looked at me and Hermione. “It’s something and nothing at the same time. It’s a heavy reminder of what I lost, but it’s also a statement of things that are _mine,_ not shared because of something beyond me, or stolen from a person that doesn’t wholly exist.”

The network of circles moved again and Rose started chanting, the entire thing getting faster, lines appearing and disappearing, thicker than the lines Rose had drawn. I caught a flicker, the bowls in the outermost circle had had food and that disappeared when that bowl flickered out of my line of sight.

Everything stopped and Rose let out a relieved breath.

“It worked?” I said.

“Yes,” she said, looking at me and then a bit over my shoulder. “There’s a monster sleeping on your shoulder.”

“Yeah,” I said. 

_Hello, Passenger. I don’t know how to feel knowing you’re there._

“It stirred,” said Rose.

“It’ll do that,” I said. “Just don’t wake it up. I don’t know what will happen.”

She nodded. “There’s something else,” she said and there was a headiness in how she spoke. She took a breath. “Alexis. Alexis the Bogeyman. Alexis, the Tattoo Bogeyman.”

A figure walked into one of the empty paintings.

“Rose,” said Alexis, sounding like she was speaking through a torn throat.

“I wonder if you’d be willing to be my Familiar,” she said.

Alexis stepped out of the painting, letting herself drop. Hermione squeaked, taking my arm and hiding behind me.

“Blake won’t like this,” said Alexis. “You’ll be taking his friends again.”

“Blake already gave me his friends,” said Rose. “After you died… _disappeared,_ and we had to deal with the firm. I think…I _hope,_ he’ll realise that if the Barber’s out, we’ll need all the power we can get, and having a Familiar is part of that.”

“Not the Barber,” said Alexis. “Ms Lewis.”

“Which is worse in some ways,” said Rose, tired, but not missing a beat. “We need this and ultimately it’s up to you, not him.”

Alexis shrugged. “I’d rather be out here than in the Abyss,” she said. “And you’re not so bad to work with. At least you won’t have Conquest now.”

“For better or worse,” she said. Alexis shrugged. “Let’s start.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Taylor**

“…thrown into chaos,” Alexis was saying. She stood leaned against a wall, one arm around her stomach and the other outstretched, balancing her tattoo gun by its tip on her finger. Rose was on her knees, using rulers and chalk to draw out a magical diagram. Every so often she used a protractor to check the angles at every corner. Professor Brown had offered to draw the thing out for her with magic, but Rose had declined.

“An ecosystem was settling into the Library,” Alexis continued, “the rules were starting to set. It’s safer in the upper rooms and it gets more dangerous the lower you are. Molly was one of those at the bottom and her influence filtered to the top sometimes, but it was weak enough that lost souls could get their bearings, establish something close to a community.”

Rose stopped at the mention of Molly. She gave herself a second before she went back to finishing the diagram. It was big and made mostly out of squares, a large, double-bordered square with smaller squares made out of the lines at its corners. Inside the boarders were more squares, made of intricate lines that started outside the box and were drawn in.

Hermione drew the diagram in miniature on her notepad, though it wasn’t as neat as what Rose was doing. Professor Brown sat on Dumbledore’s desk, wand held lazily in one hand, his attention shifting between Alexis and Rose.

“When _it_ happened. Everything was tossed upside down, everything at the top was at the bottom and the connections between the Abyss were messed up. The Library usually leads into the Academy or the Warehouse, but we found places where it leads to the Machine and the monster from the Tenements or the Mountain Pass would show themselves.”

“There’s more of that place?” said Professor Brown.

“It’s another world,” said Rose, still focusing on her work. “Believed to be the base level of reality. The part you dealt with was younger, more violent, but other places have different modus operandi. The Bogeyman from the Mountain Pass or the Forest are predators, but they’ll hunt differently. This is a hypothetical, but you could picture the Forest’s hunters as wolves. Their strategy is fast-paced, the goal is to run and catch the enemy as fast as they can, then gorge on the victim. The Mountain Pass would be like a komodo dragon, a short burst of speed and a bite, then wait for the damage to run its course. Then they make sure they reach their prey first and defend it from any other Bogeyman that try to take your claim.”

Alexis grinned, an ink-stained smile where there were teeth, and gummy at the front where she didn’t have any. “Look at my little Scourge go,” she said.

Rose scowled but said nothing.

“How is the place we were in different?” said Professor Brown. “What’s its modus operandi?”

“Longs quiets and then motion _,”_ said Alexis. “Molly can’t settle too long or she loses her _self,_ so she stirs things up, feeds on the resulting negativity to keep herself strong.”

“And now she’s with the Unspeakables,” Rose muttered under her breath.

“The Unspeakables know what they’re doing,” said Professor Brown. “They captured her without trouble.”

“I don’t trust that,” said Rose. “At least from what I see.”

“Something you still haven’t told us about,” I said.

“Not yet,” said Rose. “I think that if I said anything it would make things harder.”

“You’re maybe right,” said Alexis.

“Dumbledore hypothesised,” said Professor Brown, “that we were pulled into this dimension and our nemesis along with us. This Ms Lewis, she’s your nemesis?”

Was that true? I remembered Coil being a big deal once upon a time, but was it enough for him to a be a nemesis? When I thought about it, there were definitely greater threats, people I’d spent more time on or were more dangerous. Jack Slash and the Nine readily came to mind. But for a nemesis relationship to exist it had to be two-sided. I’d looked at Jack Slash as an enemy, wanted to stop his goal to end the world, but he’d focused more on Theo than me. Scion hadn’t really even seen me until I’d directed an army at him.

Coil, though, we’d traded blows. It had been personal in a way. I’d been a thorn to his plans and he’d been the driving force through much of my early career.

“Not directly, I would say,” said Rose. She stopped, biting her lip as she looked at her diagram.

“Concrete against abstract, right?” said Alexis.

Rose nodded. “Angles are important, ninety degrees. Something sharp and rigid.”

“I can finish up. I’ll probably be faster too.”

“Thanks,” said Rose, “and could you use chalk? I don’t want to expend any power when I’m still not sure how it translates to being a wizard.”

Alexis nodded, taking the piece of chalk and taking over. Where Rose had been careful, Alexis moved with confidence. She filled up the squares at the border and then moved inside, starting lines from the corners of the large box, drawing them so they met in the middle.

Rose frowned as she looked at it. “Not the approach I would have used,” she said.

“A box unfolded,” said Alexis. “The top is open and it’ll snap shut.”

Rose rubbed chalk off her hands, seemingly satisfied. She looked to the left and down.

“Blake, Evan and Sy are at the base of the staircase,” she said. “They’ll be here soon.”

“Your nemesis,” said Professor Brown.

“Our nemesis wasn’t her specifically, but what she represented,” she said. “Our family was in debt. Ms Lewis and the being she worked for were a way out. One we had to workto make sure we didn’t use because that would be screwing over the world.”

Professor Brown shook his head. “I’m not sure I get it,” he said. “My nemesis was personal so was Ms Hebert’s. Yours seems…nebulous.”

“That’s the world I lived in,” said Rose. Her eyes were on Professor Brown but behind him, following something only she could see.

It felt like a clue. Giving us the pieces to figure it out, but there was too little information. Everything around her magic was still non-specific and I didn’t think I could figure it out. A part of me was also holding back. I didn’t need to figure anything out because this wasn’t about me. It was something Rose had to do and I was a bystander.

“They’re here,” said Rose as the door opened. Blake, Evan and Sylvester, with Professor Snape looming behind them. The man stopped, eyes set on Alexis whose focus was on her diagram.

“That’s one of the monsters,” said Professor Snape. His voice was cool and even, but his gaze was sharp as he started at Alexis.

“Yes,” said Professor Brown. “It’s fine.”

“Is it?” he said. “I have to wonder if I should invoke Calvert’s Protocols.”

“In this situation I would.”

Everyone was looking at me. It took me a second to realise I’d been the one who’d spoken. Making myself the centre of attention. I couldn’t help but put myself in the thick of things. I swallowed. Was I _that_ bad? That I couldn’t just let things go? That I couldn’t stick to the side lines?

“Explain, Ms Hebert,” said Professor Snape, an order that left me bristling. I still didn’t like the man.

“From your perspective a lot that doesn’t make sense is happening,” I said. “Rose isn’t really explaining anything. When she does, it raises more questions than answers. In your position, I would chalk this up to the unknown magical creatures with unknown magical powers.”

Rose looked a little hurt. “I thought you trusted me,” she said. Alexis stopped, looking up at her. They shared a look but it didn’t go further than that.

“I do,” I said, but that felt like a lie. She was a friend, true, but there was just so much I didn’t know. Of course it made _sense._ I was hiding things too. But that made it hard to trust.

“That’s a lie,” Sylvester said. Rose scowled at Sylvester.

I didn’t turn his way. I let out a sigh.

“It’s complicated,” I said. “I want to help you because you’re in a lot of trouble. But wanting to help someone isn’t exactly trusting them.”

“I think I understand,” she said, her eyes on Blake. His attention was on Alexis. She’d made smaller square at the centre, covering the point where the lines bisecting the bigger square met. Now she was working on triangles on each side of the smaller square.

“You Awakened,” said Blake. Rose nodded. “And Alexis is your Familiar.” Rose nodded again. “You’re taking my friends, again, Rose,” he said, tone accusatory.

Rose stood a little taller. “I asked and Alexis accepted,” she said.

“Because even being your Familiar is better than…” he stopped, letting out a breath. “It’s starting. Bad karma.”

Rose nodded. “I think the spirits of this world are confused and they’re making up for lost time,” she said. “It’s making it obvious.”

“A lot of talking _around_ us going on,” Sylvester muttered, making sure he was heard.

“Alexis,” Blake said. He took a step into the office and stopped short. Snape had an iron grip on his shoulder. Blake looked up at the man.

“I can’t in good conscious let you go in there when we don’t know what effect they might be under,” said Snape.

“We’ll be fine,” said Blake. “There’s no master stuff to worry about.”

“I’d rather be—”

Sylvester and Evan acted at the same time, running into the room. Snape reached for his wand, being interrupted by Blake who shoved his body into him. Snape stumbled back, choosing to regain his balance instead of going for his wand. Blake ran into the Headmaster’s office. Snape pulled out and pointed his wand. The door to the office slammed shut before he could fire a spell.

“Snape will ask for help,” said Professor Brown. “I’m hoping he’ll ask from the Order first before going to the Aurors, which should make explaining this much easier.”

“It’s all feeding into his paranoia, though,” I put in. “Makes him seem right, at least in his mind.”

Professor Brown shrugged, looking at the diagram. “I think I know what that’s supposed to do,” he said. “And I don’t want time wasted when it could be gone sooner than later.”

“I don’t think it’s the one you’re thinking about,” said Rose. Now her eyes were on Professor Brown’s head.

“What’s he thinking about?” said Sy. “What’s going on?”

“We’ll be able to tell you when it’s done,” said Alexis.

“One last piece,” said Rose. “Something to contain and not made by magic.”

“Accio.” A box flew out from one of the cupboards. Professor Brown pointed his wand and it floated to Alexis who put it in the middle of the diagram, its lid open.

“If you’d walk through,” said Rose.

“You can’t lie,” said Professor Brown.

“Not without losing a lot,” said Rose. “I’ve already edged towards a lie and it cost me a bit.” She scowled at Sylvester again.

“What did I do?” he said.

Rose ignored him.

“Is this going to hurt me? Trap me?” asked Professor Brown.

“It shouldn’t,” she said. “But I don’t know enough about the interplay between the different forms of magic to say for sure.”

Even with the uncertainty he went ahead.

He stepped over lines to get into the diagram. The moment he was in, everything shifted: the squares at the corners slid down in an anticlockwise motion that shrunk the diagram; when the large square was hit the points triangles they snapped up, closing around the inner square and forcing it to grow smaller. The entire thing ended with the box snapping shut, leaving the diagram emblazoned on top of the lid.

 _“Okay,”_ said Sylvester. “Can someone tell me what the hell that was?”

“The curse on the Defence position,” said Professor Brown.

***

“Stay where you are,” the hyena said, speaking in a gruff voice. The animal, made out of a ghostly blue light, looked like it had been badly battered, having fought numerous fights and barely made it out alive. “If you try to move, we’ll take it as an attack and curse to kill.”

Professor Brown waved his wand and a buck materialised, stepping lightly into the air and flying out of the room.

“What is that?” said Rose, almost breathless, her eyes were wide and she seemed lost. She’d been on the floor again, working on another diagram. This one was a diamond superimposed over a circle, with two points of the diamond sticking out of the circle. The parts sticking out were double bordered, symbols that represented water drawn within.

“A patronus,” said Professor Brown.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” said Rose. “A spirit, a _big_ spirit, overlapping the stag. When I looked at it I, it reached out and I felt warmer _._ I got other impressions.” She looked at Hermione and then Professor Brown. “Maybe memories.”

“Happiness made real,” said Professor Brown, seeming a little uncomfortable. “If you saw anything in there, I’d like you to keep it quiet.”

“Okay,” said Rose and she pulled herself back in, looking at her diagram. “It’s all so distracting,” she muttered under her breath. “Spirit on spirit on spirit. Mixing together, bleeding into each other to form something _more._ Hogwarts is this interlay, there’s mirth and power and movement and—”

“Pull back,” said Blake. He had his arms crossed, sitting near Professor Brown. This put him on this other side of the room from Rose.

“Rose,” I said. “Are you okay? You seem different.”

“I’m…fine,” said Rose. She gave me a smile.

I looked at Sylvester. “She is. She’s just happy,” he said without missing a beat. “More than happy. She didn’t think she could get to this point and now she’s imagining everything she can do.”

“I think I could get back home,” said Rose. “With everything Professor Brown said about the Abyss when they went through.”

Professor Brown and Aurors had gone into a door into the Abyss. They’d been attacked by monsters, ten of which had gotten out. Five were accounted for in some form or another: Two had fought Dumbledore and been caught, Alexis was with us and another two had moved through paintings to get into the Ministry of Magic where one had been captured. The other five were more of a problem, but Professor Brown was forty-five percent sure they weren’t in the castle.

But that wasn’t what Rose was fixated on. Professor Brown had described the Abyss threatening to give him what he wanted if he gave himself over. It had mentioned pathways through dimensions in the titles of its books.

“It won’t be easy,” said Blake. “The Abyss doesn’t work like that.”

“The Abyss has incentive to make this work because it helps _itself_ in the long term,” said Rose. She stopped her diagram, standing up.

“Karma,” said Sylvester. Rose and Blake stopped, giving him a look. He shrugged. “Still don’t get all of it, but…I think I understand a part of it. Karma makes you two not like each other. You usually don’t. You disagree a lot. But it feels like you were both rearing up to attack more than usual.”

“Maybe it’s best if we don’t talk,” said Rose. “Like we did at the end.”

Blake shook his head. “If we don’t talk then I can’t tell you if you’re gonna do something stupid.”

“Then let’s limit it,” she said. “We _can_ work together, even with everything. Let’s go back to that.”

Blake looked like he wanted to say something but he stopped himself, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a huff. He gave a curt nod. His eyes strayed to Alexis for a second before his shoulders hunched. He let out another heavy breath, his mouth becoming a line.

“Ms Lewis,” said Professor Brown. “Can you stop her?”

“I don’t know,” said Rose. “I think the safest thing to do would be to bind her. She’s a bogeyman now and that has weaknesses, things we can use against her. But we’d have to _find_ her first. I don’t think she’s ever been summoned which means we need to fetch her, give her a name that we can use to pin her down.”

“She already has a name,” said Evan, like it as the most obvious thing in the world. “Ms Lewis.”

Rose shook her head. “That’s a title,” she said. “One she got by being a partner of the firm. If they didn’t pull her out of the Abyss, then I’m willing to guess she lost her partner status and the title.”

“Context please,” said Sylvester. “I’m good at filling in the blanks, but even _I_ have limits.”

“The firm is made up of other people who work only with the bad stuff,” said Evan. “When they mess things up, like _big_ time, they join and they get the chance to work past their mess instead of whatever would have happened to them if they hadn’t taken the deal.”

“It’s filled either with people who made a lot of mistakes,” said Blake, “or were the worst kind of evil—”

“And it’s easy to guess which is which if people only work with Unforgivable Curses,” Rose added.

“Doesn’t that mean going back in _there?”_ said Professor Brown. “Where a team of train Aurors _fought_ to make it back and even then some of our protections didn’t matter?”

“This time we’ll have the Abyss on our side,” said Rose.

“Which honestly doesn’t mean much,” said Blake. “The Abyss is a machine with life in it. It’s grown that life a certain way and even if we were trying to help it, it’s not like it can tell that life to suddenly stop what it was primed to do.”

Rose frowned. “Are you going to shoot down every idea?” she said.

Blake shrugged.

“Karma,” said Sy again. Both of them stopped.

Rose finished off her diagram and stood. She fixied her hair, puffed up her chest. “I call Green Eyes,” she said. Evan stood straighter, giving the circle a longing look. I could see Blake sit up. There was disappointment when nothing happened.

“Do you have scissors?” said Blake.

“Good idea,” said Rose with a smile.

“I have my wand,” said Professor Brown.

“Cut a piece of hair from me and Evan and put in the circle,” said Blake. With a quick flick, strands of hair flew through the air, positioning themselves in the spaces where the diamond peeked out of the circle.

“I call Green Eyes,” Rose said again. “Blake and Evan miss you.”

Water appeared out of the circle, dark and filled with debris; a form shot up, so pale I could see beneath her skin, sickly thin with bones exposed. She had long fingers that ended in claws, sharp teeth visible even with her mouth closed, the tail of a fish and scales that looked like they could rend flesh.

Water spilled up around her, hitting an invisible barrier that stopped it from leaking past the lines of the diagram. When she dropped she didn’t fall into water _._ She hit the ground hard,not that she noticed.

“Hey, Sushi,” said Evan, smiling.

“Nugget,” the woman said, her voice a wispy hiss. “You’re a boy again.”

“Yep,” said Evan. “Flesh and blood. Alive, too.”

“Blake?” she said. “You two disappeared.”

“I’m here,” said Blake, giving her a small smile. The woman didn’t say anything, only giving Blake a long look. “It’s complicated,” he said.

I caught Rose start to speak, but Sy, who’d found space to move close to her, jabbed her in the ribs. She stopped, glaring at him. Sy only shook his head. Rose swallowed and nodded, she turned her head, looking towards the door.

“The others are here,” she said.


	26. Chapter 26

**Harry**

The mermaid sat on one side of the room talking with Evan Matthieu and Blake Thorburn, with the latter two sharing what they knew about the situation so far; Rose Thorburn was talking to one of the monsters I remembered seeing while in the Abyss. Hermione sat close to the both of them with a notepad in-hand and wide-eyes as she kept track of the conversation, while Taylor Hebert and Sylvester Lambsbridge stood in their own corner, with the latter talking more than the former.

All of the information was here, waiting to be unravelled.

For the life of me I couldn’t be bothered.

I thought about Dumbledore and how much he would love this, taking it all in and asking the right questions, making hypotheses then taking the steps to figure out if they were true or not.

It wouldn’t be the same sort of exciting for me as it would be for him, even if it would give me a better understanding of _this._ What I wanted right now was perhaps what Rose wanted, to go back home, to be with Ginny, to go out for lunch with my Ron and my Hermione instead of watching them change.

My eyes drifted to Hermione as she asked Rose a question, showed the blonde girl her notepad. I tapped my wand against my leg and my senses stretched. I tuned everything else out and focused on them.

“…against abstract,” Rose said. “We made hard lines and the angles were precise, ninety degrees across all corners…”

Hermione’s search for knowledge wasn’t as focused as before, too much had happened in a short span of time and she hadn’t settled into any one topic. But the person she was now was already so far away from the person I knew, each grasp at knowledge having changed her. She had friends now and much as I liked that, I couldn’t help but see how the wide chasm between the person I knew and the person she was becoming.

My eyes found Rose again and for a fleeting second I felt torturous hope. She seemed to believe she could get home and if it was possible for her then it might be for me. But things weren’t that simple. If I left here, then Voldemort would be truly immortal. I’d have to go jump through a lot of hoops to make sure I was dead enough that the sliver of soul he had in me was gone, but that I could come back to life and go back home.

Would it be possible? Or was I setting myself up for disappointment by hoping?

A part of me wanted to be done with it, to go back to thinking that I _couldn’t_ return to my dimension and wrap myself in the distractions of this world. I was a teacher and I liked it. Sirius would be out of Azkaban in a matter of days and I could start a relationship with him, and maybe I could do the same with Remus.

Everything was just better if I accepted this. If I cast the hope away and just settled. It meant I couldn’t be hurt, as no doubt Rose would be when her plans eventually failed.

“Expecto Patronum,” I said under my breath, thinking about Hermione and Ron, thinking about Ginny and the Weasleys. A wisp of light congealed and evaporated. My eyes drifted over to this dimension’s Hermione who was still talking to Rose and it hurt, watching the gap again and missing my Hermione more and more.

I took a long breath and focused on the good times, momentarily pushing this away. I didn’t think in the realm of hope, in being able to see them again, but I thought about the time we’d already spent together. It was better to think that they were dead than that they were lost and needed finding.

“Expecto Patronum,” I said again and the wisp was brighter, taking the form of a stag before I cancelled the spell.

“Someone’s here that can see through walls,” said Rose. “It’s different from the spell that tells them we’re here. The connection is more direct.”

“That would be Alastor Moody,” I said, crossing my arms. Sylvester and Taylor looked at me, the former’s eyes sparkling with mischief, while the latter stood taut, her shoulders squared.

A bang reverberated as the door was flung open. I moved a little, getting in sight of the door and looking beyond. There were six people on the other side: Mad-Eye stood front and centre, his wand pointed ahead of him and his false eye spinning, stopping for the barest seconds and moving on; behind him were Snape, McGonagall, Kingsley, Calvert and a man who’d been a Death Eater in my dimension.

 _Things have changed and he’s a trusted member of the Order,_ I thought to myself.

“Brown,” said Mad-Eye. “You and the kids seem to have been busy.”

“Just a bit,” I said with a shrug. I held out my wand and threw it to the side. Mad-Eye flicked his wand, summoning mine and sending it behind him without ever touching it.

_Smart._

Ron had made a mistake like that, once. A wand-maker had been selling unstable wands to goblins and we’d been part of the raid. He’d made the mistake of catching a wand after disarming a perp and he’d been in Saint Mungo’s for a week because of a nasty curse.

“All the others do the same,” he said. “Wands out and tossed aside.”

I gave the kids a nod and they did, pulling out their wand and throwing them aside. Only one of them didn’t.

“You, girl, your wand,” said Mad-Eye.

“Mad-Eye,” I said. His real eye looked at me while his other was stuck on Taylor. “Dumbledore had a job for you, something he wanted looked at—”

“Huh,” said Thomas and he smiled a little. “I was right then,” he said. He looked around, giving Mad-Eye a look. “Dumbledore’s spying on me.”

“Verifying,” said Mad-Eye. “Can’t discount you did something ill-advised, Calvert.”

“I understand,” he said. “Constant vigilance. Maybe I should leave. It seems I’m only making things harder.”

“Perhaps that would be for the best,” I put in.

His eyes lingered on me, the same expression I’d seen off him after I’d drunk my dose of Polyjuice Potion to keep up the charade as Professor Brown.

“Snape, McGonagall, Kingsley, stay,” said Mad-Eye. “Calvert and Avery, off with you both. Keep an eye on the exit, make sure nothing gets out.” Mad-Eye flicked his wand as he said that and every portrait frame swung off the walls, sailing out of the room. “Now, girl. Your wand.”

“I’m not sure I can trust you,” said Taylor. “I don’t even know you.”

“Not like you have a choice,” said Mad-Eye. “Give me the wand or I disarm you.”

“Alastor,” said McGonagall. “Ms Hebert,” she said, pushing Mad-Eye aside and showing herself. “You will not be harmed. Give us your wand so we can go about this investigation.”

“Not like you can fight them all, anyway,” Sylvester whispered.

Taylor frowned then threw her wand. Mad-Eye caught it, summoning it out of the room.

“Now explain,” said Mad-Eye. “Before we start pulling out the potions to verify.”

I took lead. “With the exception of Hermione, all the others here are like me. From their own dimension, alternate from our own. The Thorburn twins and Mr Matthieu come from the same dimension as the place the doors leads. It’s part of their magical world and Ms Thorburn wanted to Awaken her magic so the place, the Abyss, can be more controllable. The monsters are Alexis, friend to the Thorburn twins and Mr Matthieu, and Green Eyes, a friend to Blake and Evan.”

“Read the reports and there wasn’t a mermaid in that place,” said Moody.

“That’s because I summoned her,” said Rose, stepping forward. “She’s a friend of Blake and Evan, and I hoped, in part, she would be able to explain something about how we came here.”

“Can they control you?” said Mad-Eye. “Control your actions and intentions?”

“I don’t think so,” said Rose but she hesitated.

“I might, but a lot would need to happen,” said Alexis. “The person would need to be hollowed out first, or if they didn’t have any ties I might be able to do it. Not that I’ve experimented.”

“You were one of the monsters who fought with Dumbledore,” said Professor McGonagall. “You tried to attack my students.”

“I wanted Blake to see me so I could give him a message,” said Alexis. “The old guy chased me and would have gotten me, so I had to send him to people who were better fighters.”

“He’s hurt because of you,” said McGonagall.

Alexis shrugged.

“Okay,” said Mad-Eye. “Stand apart, all of you. We’ll bind you and put up protective enchantments. Then we’ll give you some Veritaserum and look through your minds to make sure you’re telling the truth. If any of you know Occlumency, say it now.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” said Sylvester.

Mad-Eye spared him a too blue gaze. I glanced at Sylvester and he was grinning.

“Move it,” said Mad-Eye. “All of you.”

We spread apart, putting enough space between all of us that they wouldn’t have to worry about being jumped. Mad-Eye waved his wand and lengths of chain flew out. McGonagall waved her own wand and every chain flying to her students became a length of rope. I heard Rose’s breath hitch and I glanced her way, her eyes were wide as she watched the ropes shoot through the door and bind around each of us except the mermaid who they slid off of. Another wave and this time lengths of rope made of light bound her.

“I don’t like this,” the mermaid said, shifting and trying to pull against her bindings. They stretched a little, but when she moved too much they tightened.

“It’s going to be okay,” said Blake and he looked at me. I gave him a small nod.

Mad-Eye waved his wand and there were three bursts: one hit me with a surge of wind, running up from my legs to my head, then down again, and two others that left spots of light in the corners of my eyes.

“Kingsley,” said Mad-Eye. Kingsley stepped forward, moving through his own detection spells before giving Mad-Eye a nod. The old man was the first to get in, leaning heavy only his prosthetic leg as he waved his wand. Lines of light started to form on the floor, putting each of us into our own little space.

“I’ll start with him,” Mad-Eye said to me. “You deal with the others. We’ll meet when we’re done. Compare notes and see if this is a benign as they say it is.”

At the last word the lines of light flared, forming walls that hid me from the others. Mad-Eye stepped forward, reaching into his heavy coat and pulling out a potion.

“One of the things could transform, become someone else,” Mad-Eye said as he stepped closer. “Mouth open.” He foisted a potion into my mouth and I swallowed the bitter liquid, my face scrunching.

“They called it a Faerie,” I said and I felt as the potion got to work, running through me and spreading a burning feeling. “What was that?”

“Potion that makes you drunk without really being drunk,” he said. “Mouth open.” He foisted another potion into me and this one I felt in my head, thoughts bubbling up and my mouth almost moving without me thinking that I wanted to talk. “Veritaserum.”

“This would be better if you didn’t tell me this,” I said. I frowned. “Didn’t mean to say that.”

“That’ll be the potions,” he said. “And I _have_ to tell you or I’d get arrested.” He jabbed me with his wand.

“Fuck _you,”_ I said as pain started from the jab and spread over me. The Polyjuice started to fade, my eyesight getting worse and my clothes starting to get too big; this form had a peculiar respiratory system and I felt as that disappeared, my breaths coming easier and my sense of smell getting a little better.

It took a few minutes before I was Harry Potter again instead of James Brown.

“Happy?” I said.

“Not for a long time,” Mad-Eye said, sauntering forward. He pointed his wand at me and a blast of water shot out, a blast so hard I would have stumbled back if I hadn’t been caught by a spell. He started with my face and then moved down my body. When he was done water turned to warm air and I was instantly dry.

“Tell me who you are,” he said.

“Harry James Potter,” I said.

“Is this your name or a name you took?” he asked.

“Given name,” I said with a shrug. “You know, the best test would have been to have me tell a lie.”

“You can’t, now, can you?” he said.

It took me a bit before I remembered the truth potion. “The drunk without being drunk,” I said. “Does it mean my brain isn’t as good?”

“Got it in one,” he said with a sharp smile. “Stops the buggers who can sort of direct their thoughts.” He pointed his wand behind him and a sofa materialised. He sat heavily. “Now what in Merlin’s knickers is going on?”

“I’m stopping myself from being hopeful I might go home,” I said. It took another second before my words reached me and they _hurt_. I’d thought this before but saying it out loud put an extra sense of reality to it.

“Explain,” said Mad-Eye. I might have been imagining it but his voice sounded softer.

“Rose Thorburn’s magic is different,” I said. “It doesn’t need a wand but it has all these rules. Which…doesn’t really matter to me. The thing that matters is that she was able to stop Voldemort’s curse on the defence position in less than a day, that she could see the memories that fuel my patronus and she sees the piece of soul Voldemort has in me.”

He sat straight up at that.

“You didn’t know,” I said. “Dumbledore didn’t tell you.”

“Dumbledore knows me too well,” said Mad-Eye, his voice harder.

I smiled. “I should be scared but I’m not. I knew something like this would happen,” I said. “Are you going to do it now?”

“McGonagall would kill me if I tried,” he said. “Though I _should._ As long as you’re alive we can’t sodding kill Voldemort, now, can we?”

“That’s true,” I said. “I think Voldemort knows this too. It’s why he didn’t go after his Horcruxes. Too much risk when he knows Dumbledore isn’t going to kill me.”

He sighed. “I don’t envy you, boy,” Mad-Eye said. “I know about your life, ‘least the pieces Dumbledore put out for me. This must be hell.”

I let out a sigh and I was surprised I didn’t say anything. “I was starting to have a good life,” I said. “Just a few more years and I would have married Ginny, maybe had kids. Now all of that is gone.” I smiled. “We would have already been married but I wanted to give her what she gave me, you know? I broke her heart to go after Voldemort and she waited. Not the same, but I wanted to give her something like that with the Holyhead Harpies, space to flourish.”

“But you said there was hope,” he said.

“Rose. She’s like me,” I told her. “She wants to go home. I think if she put her head to it then she might be able to help me with my thing. I can’t depend on the same luck as in my dimension, not when Voldemort knows what he has to avoid.”

Mad-Eye nodded. “Tell me about the monsters. Tell me about everything that’s been going on,” he said.

“There’s a lot I don’t know,” I said. “A lot of the pieces that are missing, but the door came with the Thorburn twins just as the Voldemort came with me and Thomas came with Taylor Hebert. But it feels like it was an accident, at least from what’s said. Something is in there, someone with the knowledge to ruin the world and that place is trying to keep them from getting out.”

“So the monsters were a guard,” said Mad-Eye, his voice low. “But why a door? Especially in Hogwarts. Except if it was following them? But then why didn’t it appear in their homes?”

I shrugged. “Dunno, especially when it wants to talk to Rose,” I said.

Mad-Eye called forward a hyena and it flew free of the confines.

“What was that?” I asked.

“I want analysis of where the monsters first appeared,” he said. “Compare them to how close they appeared from the children’s home, taking into account that it appears in abandoned places.”

“Smart,” I said. “Are we done, yet? I have my last class soon and I always feel good after teaching.”

Mad-Eye gave me a long look, both eyes set on me before he let out a long breath. “If you don’t grab life by the balls, boy,” he said. “You can’t expect anything good to happen to you, do you? Last time you won against Voldemort you weren’t just sitting there, were you? You were _doing._ Just sitting here and sulking isn’t going to get you anything.”

I snorted. “I lost everything,” I said. “Pretty hard to come back from that. Except if you’re telling me to move on…?” I gave him a look, maybe a scowl, but he seemed unfazed.

“You gotta start thinking about it,” he said. “The people that survive stuff like this are the ones that can move on.”

“If only it were that easy,” I muttered.

Mad-Eye gave a grunt and shrugged. “That should be it for now,” he said. “We’ll wait until the potion wears off before going over your memories and the lie test.”

“It won’t work on Rose and the monsters,” I said. “They have to tell the truth.”

“I know,” said Mad-Eye and he got to his feet, shuffling out of my little cell and closing off with another wall of light. My chains disappeared and I was left to contemplate the future for the next hour or so.

***

“As far as I can tell,” said Mad-Eye, “none of you are lying, no strange magic or anything we can’t account for, your thoughts match within acceptable degrees of diversions. You’re safe, as much as anything can be safe.”

He flicked his wand and all of our wands returned to us. He conjured a stool and sat, rubbing through his robes to the point where his leg and prosthetic met. He pointed his wand behind him and his patronus flew out. I focused on the spell and heard footsteps coming up, Thomas and Avery.

“What happens now?” I asked. I was back in my Brown body and left with a heavy sense of regret for my life choices, especially the past hour. Mad-Eye said it was an after-effect of the potion, a deterrent to using the it more than was necessary.

“Now we figure things out,” said Mad-Eye. “There’s _them,”_ he pointed at the Thorburns, Evan, Alexis and Green Eyes, “and the whole Abyss thing. Not to mention this Ms Lewis and the creatures she could have summoned.”

I glanced at Rose, Evan and Blake, each of whom wore their emotions on their sleeves. Rose had her eyes wide, an anger to her that she was doing her best to quell; Blake seemed withdrawn, his shoulders hunched and a resignation to him; and Evan looked like a kid who’d been caught trying to steal some biscuits.

From what I’d picked up being around them, they didn’t give away information easily and through potions they’d probably had to give up more than they wanted. I remembered having to watch as a suspect was questioned, seeing the different approaches and how they worked. _This_ was brute forcing it, meaning there was no grace, no tricking the suspect into giving away information willingly and that could break some people.

“You,” he pointed at Taylor, “and everything around Calvert. Him,” this time he pointed at Sylvester, “and whatever it is Fray’s planning with you, and finally you…”

He looked at me with both eyes until I found it a little uncomfortable.

“I’m not Albus,” he said, changing track. “He would have twinkled his eyes and spoke like a father to the lot of you, made you feel better, but I don’t have the time for that. I want everything on the table so we can make plans, start setting up countermeasures. So I want to knock off as many of these problems as I can.”

At that the door opened, Thomas and Avery coming in.

Taylor’s head snapped in his direction, her shoulders squaring as she stared him down.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Mad-Eye,” I said.

“Very well might not be, but it needs to be done,” he said. “Wards up,” he said to Kingsley and Avery. “I want to make sure _nothing_ can get into and out of this room. You, Granger, we’ll have to bind your tongue because I don’t think we can trust you—”

“No,” said Taylor and she stood. Mad-Eye looked her down but it didn’t work. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to come in here and steamroll us. You—”

“Sit down,” said Mad-Eye and with a wave of the wand she did.

“Mad-Eye,” said McGonagall, her tone terse. “You will not hex my students. Is that clear?” Mad-Eye grumbled under his breath. “Ms Granger,” she said and she gave Taylor a glance. “You are a point of weakness, knowing too much at such a young age. Alastor thinks, and I agree with him, that it might be for the best if you had spells on you that would mean you wouldn’t say anything to anyone else.”

“If…if you think it’s for the best,” said Hermione, her voice small.

“It’s _your_ choice, Hermione,” said Taylor. “Don’t make them make you feel like it isn’t. Rose and I trust you.” She looked at Rose and Rose dithered.

“It’s not about _trust,”_ said Mad-Eye. “It’s about being _smart._ The rest of you have skills, in one form or another, and the others are complicated,” he said this with a bit of a glance at Green Eyes and Alexis. “Ms Granger’s only a child. She didn’t live through what the rest of you did and that means her skin is thinner.”

“You think he’s right,” said Sylvester. Taylor turned to him. “If you fight him right now, it’ll because you want to fight not because of anything else. Even if you frame it that way.”

Taylor crossed her arms, a deep frown on her on her face. Hermione, I noticed, was looking down, close to tears while Rose looked guilty.

“I’ll do it,” said Hermione.

“Good,” said Mad-Eye. “One thing done, now the next. Calvert, _here,”_ he said and he stood, shambling back.

“I’m worried about this being a trap,” said Thomas. “All of you being under some master ability—”

“You don’t really think that,” said Sylvester. “It’s an excuse because you’re afraid.”

“Is he a mind reader?” Green Eyes whispered to Evan.

“It feels like that sometimes,” Evan whispered back.

“You’ve gotten yourself another Tattletale,” said Thomas.

Taylor shrugged.

Thomas walked forward, sitting on a stool that faced Taylor. The girl had her arms crossed and scowled at him. Mad-Eye waved his wand and their chairs swivelled forward, getting within arm’s length of each other.

“Unbreakable Vow,” said Mad-Eye.

Everyone adult stopped, giving Mad-Eye a stricken look.

“You can’t be serious,” said McGonagall. “She’s a child.”

“She’s got the body of a child,” said Mad-Eye. “But she’s of age, gone through more than most people who are older than her. She can make this decision.”

“What’s an Unbreakable Vow?” Taylor asked.

“Probably a vow you can’t break,” said Sylvester. Evan and Alexis snorted.

“Right in one,” said Mad-Eye. “There’s a lot between you two, but the crux of it is that you,” he pointed at Taylor, “think he’s going to kill you and _you’re,”_ he pointed at Thomas, “afraid of her because she _did_ kill you. Let’s take that out of the picture. Calvert has resources I’ll want to use and I don’t want to be worried about him making plots to kill some muggle-born girl.”

“There’s a lot more you’ll have to worry about from him than just him killing people,” said Taylor.

“Not your problem to worry about, girlie,” said Mad-Eye. “Because there’s nothing you _can_ do in the first place. You barely know about magic, whatever abilities you did have are gone, and from a resource standpoint Calvert could take you down as easily as a child killing an ant. Now, hand out, the both of you.”

I thought about the Mad-Eye from my dimension and it hit me how little I’d known him, especially when he didn’t have Dumbledore’s guiding hand. The only true memory I had of him was the flight to Grimmauld Place and how unnecessarily long it had been because of his paranoia. Back then, he hadn’t been this direct, cutting through everyone to get them to do what he wanted.

Taylor and Thomas did the Unbreakable Vow, both promising not to try and kill the other directly or indirectly, that they also wouldn’t try imprison the other excepting if the other broke a law. Then Moody went into minutiae on that point because Calvert could bring up false charges and this meant he had to couch the wording so the spirit of the vow mattered more than the letter. Lastly it was decided that this extended to family members.

Throughout this process Rose had been writing down the wording of the Unbreakable Vow.

“Good,” said Mad-Eye. “Whatever gripes you have with each other don’t matter to me, but if they get in the way of my operation or they mean innocent people die, then you’ll have to answer to me. If you work together, things will be professional, understood?”

Both of them nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Fray,” he said to Sy. “What’s she planning?”

Sylvester shrugged, a large grin plastered on him.

“Good enough with that poison in your body,” he muttered. “From you, girl—”

“Rose,” she said.

 _“Rose,”_ said Mad-Eye. “We’ll want everything you can give us about the Abyss, about Lewis and about those demons that were mentioned.”

Rose started, looking between Blake and Evan. The latter of the two looked down, which meant _he’d_ been the one to spill.

“It’s okay, bud,” said Blake, hand on Evan’s shoulder

“We’ll need another team and another location,” Mad-Eye continued. “This stuff is hazardous information, which means we’ll want to limit it. The Ministry will be staying out of it as much as possible which means we won’t want to alert them. Thomas you’ll get us a team, people you trust, and we’ll get together, talk this over and see how we’ll deal with it.”

He looked at me and he looked _tired._

“What? No,” said Sylvester. Mad-Eye turned to him. “You air everyone’s dirty laundry but you hide his? Tell us what’s going on.”

“You say that like you’re threatening me, _boy,”_ said Moody.

Sylvester smiled and it reminded me so much of a young Voldemort. “I have ways of getting what I want.”

Mad-Eye hummed, then turned away. “We’re done,” he said to Kingsley and Avery. “Everyone get everything prepared. Minerva, I’ll leave Granger to you. Brown… _do_ something or you _are_ going to die. I’ll be talking to Albus. He’ll no doubt have something to say about how I handled things,” he muttered as he clomped away.


End file.
